The Playboy's Pursuit
by SouredSweetie
Summary: HIATUS He turned to his side, elbow bent, his head resting on his hand “Your rejection is killing me you know.” Hermione smiled sweetly, “Where’d you like to be buried?” His eyes twinkled as he prepared himself to be beaten. “Inside you."
1. ReAquainted

**The Playboy's Pursuit**

CHAPTER 1:

_Re-Acquainted_

* * *

"Okay hold it! Stop shoving and get into a straight line… No Jayden, don't pull Cassandra's hair, come on… oh it wasn't that hard Cassandra! Good Heaven's…" Hermione sighed. She didn't think that taking four children under the age of ten on a Portkey would prove to be so difficult. All right, well she knew it wouldn't be a piece of cake, but come on…"For goodness sake! If you don't cut it out right now, you all won't get any more chocolate frogs for a treat! Instead I'll tell Nurse to give you boogie flavoured Bertie Botts Every Flavour beans!"

Hermione smirked in satisfaction;_ that would shut them up_. Well, all but Charlie who occasionally liked a side treat from his nose. Last time she had threatened them she had stood by her word, much to the dismay the children, who had a rather unpleasant dirt and mushroom aftertaste. "That's better. Now remember what we must do; we all have to push the Portkey together so we don't get lost…"

Hermione was head Paediatrician- in Muggle terms- at St Mungo's ward for Diseased and Injured Children: 'Wizlette's', as she liked to call them. She was taking her recovering patients to a Quidditch signing, as the Christmas Cup was just weeks away. There, a child from each ward who was well enough would be chosen to spend a whole week with their favourite team.

That child from her ward was Jayden, a cherub little blond six-year-old, with epilepsy; who fortunately had yet to have a fit in six months. He was a dedicated Puddlemere supporter just like his father, who had passed away from a seizure the previous year.

"Now now Doctor Granger, don't be like that. You know they're only children. Horrible, feral children…horrible, feral children with toes for noses and spaghetti for boogers," teased Dominic, earning him a giggle from the children. Dominic, Dom for short, was Jayden's uncle and the nurse accompanying her to the event. He had a rather farfetched and deliciously decadent sense of humour; and many a time he and his boyfriend had saved Hermione from complete breakdown. "I don't know how many times you're going to threaten to poison them, before it actually happens; I just hope I'm there to witness!"

Hermione rolled her eyes; he was such a hypocrite and adored her patients as much as she. Though there was that one time that he bought a Tasty Tangler from Fred and George's joke shop and gave it to the kids. He swore to Cher that he didn't know it would coil around the victims tongue and turn into superglue-chewing gum. As it happens neither did the twins; Hermione begged to differ.

"Me poison these little, cherubs? Never!" she lied, though very, ah, jokingly? "Okay kids are you all ready, Genny take my hand…" Hermione warned, "It's going to get a little…bumpy."

As they all put their little hands on the Quaffle shaped Portkey, they were consumed in a whirlwind of colours as a powerful force pulled them toward the centre, before they landed at their destination: Pottersfield Quidditch stadium.

* * *

Pottersfield stadium was one of the largest in England and the most commonly played at field in the league. Muggles saw it as an old dangerous Nuclear Generator, surrounded by a cloud of radiation, but to the Wizards it was a resort.

Surrounded by green fields, caravan sites, lodgings and lakes, Pottersfield was well accustomed to tourism. Hundreds flocked to the field, which was packed with young and old alike partaking in activities full of wizard gadgetry and even more were on broomsticks zooming through the skies.

_Good advertising for the game_, thought Oliver Wood, as he stared around the field. This was the stadium that he made his debut as Keeper with Puddlemere United as a Rookie; but now, now he was Captain of the number one side in the competition and captain for Ireland's Quidditch team- but he was never one to gloat. Quidditch was his number one priority- it was his life, his love. The only thing he knew and perfected out of his 30 years was this game: and age wasn't going to set him back, heck neither was his bossy-family-orientated-Nazi mother, Oliver mused.

'I don't understand why you haven't found yourself a nice witch to settle down with! Heaven knows you're handsome enough', she always nagged, but he had to agree with her: as well as having an ego; he was good looking- even the whole female population thought so. Standing at around 6'4 with his messy dark hair and mischievous brown eyes, Oliver was one of the main lookers in the game: or so he thought, he was an optimist.

"Not checking yourself out are you Wood? Merlin knows you've already got a big enough head," taunted his best friend the Beater for Puddlemere United: Bobby Rice, who came to stand with Oliver by the window. "See anything besides yourself, that's interesting?"

Oliver rolled his eyes, "As long as my head is in proportion to the rest of my body, I don't care what size it is." Bobby was almost like another Fred and George, a prankster: except he wouldn't dare blow a Troll-fart stink bomb in a teachers face. He'd rather throw it at them or hide it in their desk, waiting for it to burst, and then run away from the scene: but he always got caught. "Depends on what you mean by 'interesting'."

"Hmm," Bobby pretended to think for a moment, and then answered before it hurt too much. "Well what would really be entertaining is seeing your face when your ex-girlfriend storms through the door, ready to hex you to oblivion or murder you: whichever way is more painful, and then witnessing your plan of escape!"

Oliver face blanched, "That would not be as interesting as it would be terrifying. Especially if you were talking about Maggie…" but by the wickedly large Cheshire grin that crept up on Bobby's face, he knew he had spoken too soon. 'Shit!'

"I heard that Oliver Wood," yelled Magda Carrie storming through the door, causing his team-mates to turn his way and smirk. They knew how much of a (according to Oliver) 'scandalous-tramped-arsed-tart she was; however she was part of the Puddlemere United board so they really couldn't do anything about it…well legally, that is.

"So I hear," supposed Oliver, trying to get as far away as possible to her and as close to the next escape route as possible. "So Madge what brings you here? I thought charity events bored you and were a waste of time? Why grace us with your unfortunate presence?"

She pulled down her ever-shrinking skirt, that started to ride up her thigh and flicked her blonde hair back, "Oh you're hilarious! Ever think that when you get over your childish fetish for Quidditch, you'll become a comedian?"

"Who Oliver?" interupted Bobby, who was trying to block the way from the door marked for Oliver's escape. "Darlin' he'd be dead before he ever gives up the bloody game- it's his shameful life. Ouch," that earned him a painful nudge in the ribs by Oliver. "But me, you know Madge, I think I could make it. I've got the potential-"

Carrie sat herself down, much to the dismay of Joe and Grace (Puddlemere's Chaser and Seeker respectively). "Puh-lease Rice, don't fill up the room with more hot air: Wood's is enough. Now let's get down to business," she started.

Bobby stepped forward, hands raised as if to stop the action around him. "Okay you've got me, I confess. It was I who put full-fat milk and cream into your cappuccino last week. I guess that's why we can't see a few ribs from your anorexic figure."

She almost fell off her chair- had she done so the players behind her would have gotten a pleasantly bony view of her bottom. Luckily for them, she composed herself. "Excuse me, FULL fat? Oh you had better be bullshitting, or I swear I'll sideline you all season! You know how much of a strict diet I'm on!"

"Oh please," Oliver piped in. He knew he wasn't getting out of there, no thanks to Bobby: better get _her_ out ASAP, he pondered. "Like you've got anything but bone to lose."

He was right she was a stick. Thanks to the new pressure of being sickly thin, almost every witch was on some stupid Muggle diet.

"Whatever Wood. Listen, I've just got back from the Quidditch conference in Ireland, with the usual boring crap like: new jerseys, latest rookies, how much we were going to pay players and how we were going to keep them from entering the Southern leagues, blablah- silly really. Anyway a little birdie told me Viktor Krum wasn't going to be playing for Bulgaria in the World Cup! So really Wood, the door opens up for you to take the Number One Player of the Year! Now that competition flew away!"

Oliver stopped shoving Bobby out of the door. Krum wasn't playing? His number one nemesis: the rival whom he tied with in competitions wasn't playing? Strange, he thought, Krum had at least another few years before he should retire, heck they were the same age!- even though Krum had been playing years before Wood- and gloat on that the Bulgarian would. For him to miss such an event as the Word Cup was unusual… and unexpected to say the least. "So what are you getting at? I'm not good enough to get it when Krum's playing?"

"Well no," she retorted. "But it does give you the upper hand. Oh stop being difficult Wood; I thought you'd be slightly relieved! Now your only competition is England."

_That's beside the point_, he thought. Awards meant nothing to him and the fact that his main competition wasn't competing made it less of a priority. Awards- or rather all of his he received throughout his career- were dust collectors sitting in his den, partly because the snitch would keep zooming about the room hitting Oliver in the head. He was constantly under pressure from fans, the club and mainly his conscience to keep striving for the top; when he'd rather just feint a couple of Starfish and Stick manoeuvers around the goals.

"Why assume the award would only be between Krum and I? I'm sure the new talents such as Geoff Mosley would be a likely vote."

"Oh please Wood, stop being modest," exclaimed Marcus James, the teams Chaser who until now was losing quite frightfully to Beater Terra Flews at exploding snap. Throwing the cards on the table, he looked out the window. "Looks like we're a bit late. Crowds growing, you reckon we should go out and mingle? I'd hate to seem a prude, just sitting here, playing bloody snap."

All but their team was outside enjoying the atmosphere and the masses of fans cheering them on.

"Oh yeah I forgot," said Maggie calmly filing her nails. "You should've been out there like ten minutes ago. Whoops."

They groaned restricting themselves to hex her and headed down the stairs; Bobby and Oliver were the last to leave.

"Oh Wood, by the way, have you seen the latest gossip?" she whipped out her wand and conjured The Daily Prophet. "Skeeter's got a snap-shot with you and Parkinson getting cosy at Dra'mal's last night."

Wood took the paper out of Maggie's hand and cursed. Under the scandalous article about Wood's suitors and lover's was an image of Oliver with the _Homowizds_ lead singer: Pansy Parkinson-Malfoy; in a corner booth at one of Diagon Alley's new hot-spots owned by her husband. Oliver, of course, was used to the press and gossip, most of which hid the truth behind the images. Pansy had been throwing herself at him the whole night with her husband's well-wishes. She hadn't been successful, so in her final bid threw herself into his lap- just as the photo was taken, and he had calmly pushed her off: he'd had a lover waiting for him at a hotel.

Well, he was a man after all and he'd rather have sex with someone he knew than some pick up on the corner who he wouldn't remember in the morning: he had morals after all- loose of course, but there nonetheless.

"So what's your point Carrie?" Oliver looked bored, "she was good, I was great, and that's that."

Bobby rolled his eyes, knowing how his friend had really spent the night.

"Fine," Maggie said, though her external composure would challenge an Ice-Queen, internally she was fuming at his blasé attitude. "Just watch out Wood, one day your chauvinism will bite you on the arse. Now head outside and mingle like the club pays your Scottish arse 2,000,000 galleons a season to do."

"My pleasure and believe me, I give as good as I get." Oliver threw down the paper and stalked away, Bobby hurrying up behind him.

"I don't know how, why or WHAT possessed you to ever go out with that praying mantis look-alike."

"Neither do I mate," he sighed but at one stage, he did: before the bitch cheated on him with Krum. "Come on let's go." He spared a glance at Maggie, who blew a kiss his way.

* * *

The scene splayed before them was wild, chaotic and exciting. Hundreds flocked the air and field duelling, pulling pranks and all round enjoying themselves at the carnival. Hermione wondered if it was the right choice to take four children to such an event: but they needed this, her optimistic side said.

She glanced down at them; faces full of excitement and eagerness, ready for the day's adventure. Jayden was the most enticed, tugging Dom's hand with a strong force, "Come on Dom, let's got over here, I wanna see the new brooms!" Jayden was the youngest at seven years old.

"Man the kids got worms! I think we _should_ poison them," Dom muttered when they had finally settled the kids down.

She smiled, it was tempting she said. "But we have to keep them alive until their parents get here. After that, we'll plan."

They showed the kids around and eventually their parents took them away for a little while; all but Jayden's mother was there, she was in hospital, too ill with a strong bout of Pneumonia.

"Doc, could we please go over to the Quidditch signings? I wanna see Puddlemere, so they can sign my jersey. Puh-lease doc?" Jayden begged, putting on a fake pout. But slowly he frowned, as Hermione shook her head.

"Not yet, now stand still before I turn you into a toad and cage you up."

Hermione looked around, searching for a glimpse of shock-red hair around the Cannons camp. Ron would surely be there and a heavily pregnant Lavender too. Then she spotted them, and dragged the boys with her.

Ron saw her and smiled, hugging her with a little red-haired boy in his arms. She picked him up and messed up his hair, as Ron did to Jayden. "Hey mate, how's it going?" Ron had met most of the kids Hermione looked after at the hospital and was well acquainted with Jayden.

The child fixed his hair and stubbornly folded his arms, causing Dom to chuckle. "Spoilt brat. G'day Ron, he's just upset because we haven't visited Puddlemere. I haven't met Madonna yet and you don't see me whining…"

"Ahh," Ron smiled. "I haven't seen any of them out yet. But I'll tell you what, when you hear some girls shrieking, you'll know Wood's out. How are you going Herms?" he asked, interrupting the conversation she was having with Lavender.

"Excuse me Ronald Weasley, I was just having an important conversation with your wife," she scolded and smiled. "I'm fine, working all the time but I cant think of anything else better! You look buff now don't you?"

Ron flexed his muscles causing a hit on the head from Lavender, "Serves you right Ron. Stop gloating about your body, when you've made mine balloon."

"Oh Lav, you dag," he smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "At least one of us has a good one."

"I'll pretend it didn't hear that Ron," Hermione mused and waved to some of Ron's team mates. One in particular she tried to ignore, as he hit on her every time they met; fortunately for her he wasn't there…yet. "So is there anything specific happening today?"

"No not really," he answered. "A few signings, competitions and flying lessons. Later on tonight there'll probably be a few fireworks- wizard style mind you. None of those puny Muggle 'pops' that you've got. Other than that, there're just a few things for the kids, and there wouldn't be a Quidditch atmosphere if there's not a pub about, to get plastered-"

Lavender sent him a dirty look halting his response, "Don't even think about it Ronald Weasley. I'll not have you drunk when I'm due any time now with your daughters."

"Oh? So you know what sex it's going to be?"

"Gah, it's just Lavender's stupid old wives tail." Ron replied. "Passed down from mother to daughter-"

Hermione interrupted. "Wait-you're having twins! But the ultra sounds showed…"

Lavender smiled. "Well the ultra sounds showed I was having one; maybe they're matching heart beats! But this test I do says different."

Hermione looked sceptical, "What test? I'm sure it's rubbish-"

"No no, here give me your left hand," Hermione reluctantly gave Lavender her hand. "Right, well since you don't have a wedding ring, I'll just leave this charm on. Now, I'm going to place my necklace over your palm…"

Lavender pulled the chain up and down three times in the backward L-shaped gap between Hermione's thumb and pointer. She then raised it over her left palm and waited for it to move. "This I swear to you never lies. However in some circumstances it counts miscarriages so that's where some oddities come about."

Hermione watched as the chain moved up and down then circled around her hand about four times before it suddenly stopped. "Um Lavender, according to this, I'm having an army of children…"

She rolled her eyes, "No silly. You saw it start and stop right, well that's obviously when the new child, er, 'starts'- I guess." She sighed at Hermione's puzzled look. "Ok, then it started to go back and forth, and it slowed down right? Well there's one child: a boy and then it repeated: another boy. Straight after it slowed it went around in a circle: that was a girl. Ms Granger, you are having two sons and a daughter, in that order."

Hermione laughed, poor Lavender. She was into astrology and divination; most things Hermione didn't believe in. Hey, it wasn't her fault she was sceptical; she was a logician. Truth was, Hermione didn't really want children, but if she did fall pregnant she'd be satisfied. It just wasn't much of a priority for her, to the dismay of her mother.

She became a paediatrician so she would be around kids a lot. Most children she'd healed had been her patients since they were babies. After seeing so much pain they had gone through she didn't think she could bring a baby into the world in the unfortunate chance it would have to suffer with some incurable illness. She wasn't selfish but rather scared.

"Oh I see. So a circle is a girl and a line a boy eh? Sorry Lav, but I don't believe it. So what happened with yours?" she suddenly heard screams and shriek of 'Oliver Wood' and 'Bobby Rice's' names yelled throughout the female population…and a few males, Dom being one of them. "Wait a minute Jayden, just a minute!"

"Well I had a line, then two circles, going one way then the other continually spinning until the end. That's how I knew I'd have a boy and twin girls. I did it too Ron too with the same results. It's never lied before Mione; I doubt you'll be an exception: DESPITE how much of a feminist you are. You'll find your match eventually."

"Hmm, maybe one day; but I heavily doubt it. I'm going to be a spinster my whole life," Hermione laughed, but the smile didn't reach her eyes.

"And she's proud of it too, silly witch. Come on Hermione let's go before Jayden wets himself," said Dom, who Hermione suspected was using Jayden as an excuse to see two of his crushes, Wood and Rice.

Smiling, Hermione and Dom waved bye to the Wesley's, promising to meet up with them later. Before they could make their way over to the teams, they suddenly stopped and looked around panicking: where the hell was Jayden?

* * *

Oliver Wood took a detour and escaped his team-mates, even the inquisitive Bobby, in hope to elude the crowd of his presence. He winced when he heard his name being chanted from the throng of fans, waiting for him to emerge. He loved the attentiveness of the fans, but being dubbed a 'god' was embarrassing.

He continued to walk unnoticed around all the other clubs' area casually waving to a few players he knew, warning them that if they said anything he would fling them off the broom next time they played.

Walking about he glanced at the fans enjoying themselves on this glorious day, until he saw a young boy wandering helplessly around and looking quite overwhelmed at everything taking place around him.

The boys' eyes widened as Oliver approached, and almost jumped a meter high when he spoke in his husky brogue accent. "You lost mate?"

Nervously the boy answered, "Well not really. I just walked away from Doc and Dom to come see Puddlemere, but when I didn't see you I walked away and came back to where they was all standing. But then they was gone."

Lifting a brow Oliver glanced at the mischievous blonde, "So you are lost then. You know you shouldn't leave your family's side."

"They're not my mama and papa. Mama's in hospital and papa he went where the angels are," the boy said carelessly. "I didn't know you had an accent."

Oliver realised he must be with his carers, and had to take him back to them. Even if that meant venturing into the animalised crowd. "That's because I come from Scotland, mate. Come on let's go and find your ah…'Doc and Dom'"

They began walking, the boy full of energy and talk. "Doc's a nut case, but I like her. She's funny, but not when she gives us earwax flavoured Bertie Beans; Dom says she's trying to poison us."

Over the next few minutes Oliver learned quite a lot from Jayden. Doc was his doctor and Dom was the name of her assistant, and his uncle. She would constantly threaten the kids if they were naughty, but when they were in need of attention would give to them fully.

It wasn't long before he heard a few curses and shouts, mainly coming from a male voice. Must be 'Uncle Dom', assumed Oliver, and was assured of that when he heard Jayden call him over.

"You silly brat you why did you leave us?" scolded Dom, who until now didn't recognise the kids founder. "Well spank my cheeks and make me blush, Mr Wood!"

Oliver wasn't quite sure if it was an order or not. "Please, it's Oliver. You must be Dom, I've heard quite a bit about you in our adventure together."

Dom blushed, "Hope it was all good, because if it wasn't, you Jayden will be in a lot more trouble than what Doc will threaten you with. Ah here she is now…"

Oliver heard the loud voice of a woman scolding a male fan of hers, 'what are you looking at? If it's these, then yes they're real, and if I may say so, fabulous!' and was suddenly quite intrigued by the woman named 'Doc'.

She came thundering to where they stood. "There you are! Why did you run off! My god, if we had lost you…I told you to wait, but no, you had to be…" she sighed, and bent to his level brushing his forehead. "Jayden please don't do that again, we were really worried about you." She then glanced up at the boy's saviour and stared.

Oliver looked down at her. He was used to the looks from both male and female admirers: he wasn't the prophet's Bachelor of the Year for the past six years for no reason. Though unlike the others, he didn't think she was assessing his package. She looked familiar but he couldn't put his finger on it. Average brown eyes, average height with average wavy brown hair, but damn, did she have curves…and then it came to him' no wonder he couldn't remember her, her teeth had been straightened out. Hermione Granger, the bookworm and Gryffindor brain; the lass that saved them a game by enchanting Harry's glasses…the attractive Doctor Hermione Granger? He realised he was staring and looked away, annoyed.

"Oliver Wood, I didn't think I'd be seeing you this soon…"

"Hermione Granger? I'd never thought I'd see you again," Oliver held out his hand which she shakily shook.

"Sorry to disappoint you. Listen I'm sorry if he was a pain, he usually is-," this earned her a protruding tongue from the child. "If you're not careful I'll rip that tongue out."

"Oh, would you let me do it instead?" Dom asked.

"Now I know what Jayden was talking about. He said you were a philistine."

Hermione raised an eyebrow and casually smiled, "Mr Wood, I guarantee that my threats are heartily fulfilled and Jayden is of no exception."

Before he could reply, the crowd turned to the scene displayed and came running like a bunch of madmen towards the quartet. "Good God," Oliver muttered. "You guys might want to get away while you still can, or you'll get trampled."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione responded, "Well don't we have a little ego? What makes you think they're here for you?"

He looked at her in disbelief, "what you think they're all running to Grandpa Hubert over there eager for a lecture on the good old days?" he said pointing to the petulant old man, who appeared to be scolding life itself.

She folded her arms, "Are you implying that I am stupid?"

"Perhaps," Oliver challenged, and then pulled her towards him as the crowd formed around them.

"What are you doing?" she felt quite delicate in his arms, an unnerving sensation for her, so as she tried to push him away he would have none of it and held on tighter. Alarm bells rang in her head warning her about playboy Quidditch players, reminding her of her promise to stay far away from them. Therefore, she pushed even harder.

Irritated, Oliver held on tighter; only for her benefit, he assured himself, "Gee lass, for a doctor you sure ain't smart. You could've honestly been trampled by all these people." He politely brushed off a fans grabbing arm, "your friends were smart, they got out of here before you did."

Hermione shut up as she knew he was right. What had come over her? She was never provoked and lost for words as she was now. She had gotten over her bossiness and innocence during the war; no one listened or respected it, so she might as well try being direct and challenging.

Hermione felt suffocated as the crowd pushed around them, and wondered where the teams security was. She glanced over at Oliver, who was too used to this assertiveness and was hastily signing posters and papers. She usually wasn't attracted to stubble, but one look at Wood changed her mind completely; stupid Wood. He had changed since Hogwarts- of course everyone did, but Oliver, was different. He dwarfed her 5'6 height, those cheekbones of his could slice marble, and his hair, ah, a sable brown with a hint of auburn highlights. She groaned, she was going to have to kill herself for romanticizing about his hair. Suddenly he eyes glanced her way.

"You know, it's rude to stare," he whispered into her ear.

"I'd rather thought it was a glare." All she could do was watch him smile at her while signing autographs for people. He obviously wasn't concentrating on the job because an eager female fan gave him a marriage certificate to sign. Hermione grabbed the paper just in time, before Oliver signed away his bachelorhood and fortune. He turned to her and gave her a questioning look and she just flashed the paper in his face. He gave her a dumbfounded stare causing her mutter, "now who's the stupid one."

He heard her and read the paper. "Hmm, looks as if there was going to be a Mrs Wood sometime." He then signed the back of the paper and gave it back to the woman shooting Hermione death stares. "Sorry ah, Lucy was it? It just wouldn't work out, you're far too pretty for me!" This earned him a smile and blush Lucy.

"You're lucky I picked that out for you," Hermione muttered, while Oliver was pushing them out of the growing crowd. "Next time you taunt me, I'll make sure you marry a chimpanzee."

Oliver quirked a brow, but said nothing, too busy trying not to run his hand down the curve of her side. He had a feeling she wouldn't appreciate a subtle manoeuver of seduction, especially with the flash of a camera at their direction. "Expect to see yourself in a gossip column tomorrow." His lips quirked, "Prepare to be Wood's' Next Woman."

She rolled her eyes and detached herself from Oliver's now wandering grasp. "What an honour."

Before Oliver could respond, they were joined by the Puddlemere team, Dom and Jayden.

"Thank Merlin you made it out of there! I've never seen such morons in a crowd except when I was at a Village People concert, all those guys there- though adorable, were on speed tranquillisers…well not really…I thought you were going to be squashed to death by a bunch of female rhinos," said Dom, who was too excited for his own good.

"Yes, painfully terrible. Thanks for leaving me there by myself, shows how brave you are you sheep," scolded Hermione.

"Sweetie have you ever heard of a gay hero?" Dom searched around for Jayden who found himself with Bobby and Terra. "Jayden come over here."

"Oh," he whined and went to Hermione and Dom.

"Well that was too much excitement for one day. Puts colonic irrigation to shame," Hermione sighed and turned around to face an amused Wood. "Bet you crave that sort of thing don't you."

At seeing her depreciating look he decided two could play that game, "What colonic irrigation? No can't say I'm a fan of shoving tubes up my arse." He restrained himself from laughing at her flushed face as did the rest of the group. If looks could kill, he would be six feet under by now.

"I forgot I was dealing with a child whose large head is filled with hot air."

He leaned toward her and breathed in her honey-like scent. "That's not the only thing about me that's large," he whispered in her ear, his minty breath caressing her neck.

Hermione fumed, damned flirt! However, before she could settle her flaring nerves and Oliver's impending castration, Maggie Carrie waltzed toward them, unimpressed with the display.

"Wood keep your privates in your pants in public," she shot Bobby a glare as he commented on the cleverness of her alliteration. She turned to Hermione, "Maggie Carrie, Puddlemere United's PR. And you're Hermione Granger," she extended her arm at Hermione.

"Nice to meet you, how did you-"

Putting on one of her most stressed smiles, she responded. "Well you are friends with Harry Potter and I remember your face from a few articles a couple of years back with Krum." She didn't miss Hermione wince. "And we've been corresponding regarding next week's clinic," she then looked down at the little boy at Hermione's side. "Oh you must be Jobe, hello."

Jayden bared a toothy smile and then frowned, "It's Jayden", earning a glare from his uncle.

"Charming child," Maggie lied. "So I figure somebody will accompany him to the clinic? For medical interest? Would that be you Ms Granger?"

When Hermione responded no, Oliver was irrationally irritated. He didn't know why but Hermione's cool exterior intrigued him along with the fact he slightly taken aback that she didn't show any obvious interest in him. He wanted to get to know the witch and what made her tick and that annoyed him more.

"Oh, shame. Well, would you look who it is?" Maggie smiled as Viktor Krum and his cronies made their way towards the group, his large frame and dark looks made him an easy stand out.

"_Herm-own-ninny_," he acknowledged patronisingly.

Hermione scowled, it didn't bother her in fourth year, and she'd be damned if it got to her now. "Krummy. What a surprise."

"No, not really," he said bored, "We are at a Quidditch event after all."

"Really," Hermione exclaimed and looked around at her company, "so this is not the idiot convention?"

Oliver was far too interested what brought about the animosity between the two than to be insulted. He turned to Maggie, "what brings you out here in the sunshine? Won't you turn to ash?"

She glared at the Scot. "The press are waiting, probably very eager to know what you were doing with Parkinson yesterday. Should be interesting, stay to see it won't you Hermione? Let's go Viktor; the press will no doubt want you too." She grabbed Krum and headed off.

Oliver glared at her head and almost took out his wand to curse Krum. Man he hated being around that prick. He sighed, he hated the press; fortunately he was charismatic enough to make up some bull, "Well Granger, after a pleasant interlude we must part ways. If there's anything you need, you know a good time, amusement- fortunately for you I can multi-task- you know where to find me."

"Highly doubtful," Hermione glared, and started to round up her men. "Let's go before I become allergic to y-chromosomal Neanderthals. Goodbye Oliver."

* * *

"Prat," Hermione mumbled. "Egotistical, big headed…"

Smirking Ron added, "Imagine what he's saying about you. Oh come on Hermione, I've never seen you so riled up since you punched Malfoy in the face. What did he do?"

She watched as Dom rounded up all the kids, checking how they measured up, muttering silent curses their way. What _did_ they do? "Nothing actually, I just can't believe what a prat he's become. Womaniser…"

"Ah he just needs a real woman to fix him up."

Why bother? A leopard can't change its spots; a playboy can't think with his head when he's fiddling with his…

"So who is going on Monday with Jay?"

Ron snapped his finger in her face to get her out of a trance, "What oh, um I think Dom is. Actually I'm sure Dom is, because if he's not, then and hell will break loose."

"Or…you could go!" he added. "It wouldn't be too bad. You'd get a week holiday- although I guess it's not much of a holiday with Jay around…"

Hermione smiled and looked at Jayden, who was about to give Cassy a bewitched Screaming Zoë lolly. "You're not wrong there." She hugged Ron. "Well I'd better go before the kids tarnish his 'fashionable Armani' shoes'. Tell Lav I said bye."

"No worries Mione," Seriously, he added, "Hermione, just in general take a few weeks off. You've become a work-junkie. We never get to see you anymore."

"Hmm maybe," she added and walked over to the Portkey they were going to take home.

"So what was that all about?" teased Bobby.

Oliver played dumb, "Hmm, about what?"

Taking a seat at their signing table Bobby smirked, "You know what I mean dumbass. Gorgeous Granger, what connections do you two have? Is she single?"

Oliver got annoyed at that. "I don't know. We just went to school together; she was four years below me. Harry Potter's best friend. I just met her and yeah…" Oliver tried to think little of it, but she was plastered in his mind and he didn't know why.

Maggie heard part of the conversation and decided to add her two cents, "Wood, I hope nothing is going to come of this. You shouldn't sully your reputation by adding another slut to the belt."

He wasn't saint by any means, but to attack a woman she didn't even know pissed him off. "Nothing happened and is going to happen Carrie. So keep you vulgar comments in your own sick mind." He wished he could believe his own words.

Defensive, Maggie put up a fight, "Listen Wood. I personally don't care what happens with you two. It had better not affect your game, understand? Puddlemere has to keep winning. We have sponsors to think of."

"Would you just chill," Oliver retorted anger seeping through his pores. "Now if you don't mind, I'm going to do my job, and as you should be doing yours. We're not a couple anymore Madge, so stop acting like the overbearing girlfriend that you're not." He said and moved away from her to the Captains seat.

"Ouch Oliver," laughed Bobby, sitting next to him. "Why the change of character? You know she could get you off the team."

"No she couldn't. The team would be nothing without me," And he started signing his name on the flocking fans' jerseys.

"Ah there's the Oliver we know," Bobby added relieved and started signing autographs. "Welcome back."

But Oliver's mind was not there on the job, even when a well-endowed female asked him to sign her cleavage, his mind wandering to a curly brunette who wanted to kill him.


	2. Let the Games Begin

**The Playboy's Pursuit**

CHAPTER 2:

_Let the Games Begin_

* * *

It wasn't enough that her alarm was going off like a man sitting on a toilet having just eaten a can of beans and chilli, but some moron kept banging on the door while she was trying to sleep on a rare day off.

"Oh Merlin!" she sighed staggering half-drunk out of bed. "Who is it!" she yelled.

"Yo Hermione, it's Johnny Junior open up."

Oh no, she thought, "I'm not here."

Johnny Jnr was a 35 year old virgin –but he hastily denies that fact- and is the son of the building's owner Johnny Mantrino. He was a Muggle who had an animal-like chest, a beer belly and thought he was somewhat of an Italian Stallion. Hermione thought he was a putz.

She looked through the keyhole and groaned. Opening the door she couldn't help but give a silent chuckle.

"Hey doll face, here's your early Christmas present," he said, sounding very proud of himself as he held up a gigantic wreath of white flowers and holly. It looked ridiculous and Hermione suspected he was re-gifting it from his Infamous, and possibly murderous Aunt Roberta.

"You bought me a portable garden?" Hermione joked, Christmas was a month away.

"It's a wreath; you hang it on a door."

"Or in the rubbish," she mumbled.

"Well if you don't want it, I'll take it back," Chagrined, Johnny started down the stairs to his own apartment, "I just thought it was a nice gift to give -"

"It's, er, so thoughtful Johnny but-" she stopped; an owl was tapping on her window with her mail in its beak. Uh oh.

"Great you'll take it, here," he literally threw it at her and she stumbled back. "Hey sorry Herms, I forget my own strength sometimes."

If you call flab muscles, she glared, just because you eat spinach it doesn't make you Popeye.

"So Herms dawlin'" he looked smug in his tight jean and leather jacket, with his thick English-Italian accent, "I just came from my Aunt Roberta's, and she's got this-"

"No," she shut the door and ran over to the window where the owl was getting agitated.

"Awe come on," she heard him whine from behind the door, wishing she could slam it into his pudgy face, "It's her husband's funeral and I don't wanna be bored at the church by myself. Keep me company."

Opening the door she saw his hopeful face and rolled her eyes. That was her relationship with Jimmy, both knew nothing would happen between them but it didn't hurt him to try. So he did try, well, almost every minute of the day when she was at home.

"I thought her husband's funeral was last week?"

"It was," he paused. "I tell ya Roberta could give Elizabeth Taylor a run for her money. She's been married so many times, you could hula hoop-"

"Well, wouldn't that be entertaining enough at the church? _Ciao_ Johnny."

"Ah you party pooper," he muttered and stalked down the stairs.

Back in her apartment Hermione looked at the ugly wreath and then at Crookshanks who had already trampled on the flowers. He was a good guy and would do anything for her she knew, but the fact that he talked like an English Sylvester Stallone, was as round as Drew Carey and he dressed like a gigolo did not do much for her libido.

Remembering the owl, which had just finished pecking on some of Crookshanks crumbs, she hurried over to it and untied The Prophet from its claws. And winced. On the front page of the paper was a picture of she and Oliver from Saturday's carnival as well as a photo of Pansy Parkinson straddling Oliver in a booth. The article was not at all complementary for Wood, and she did not appreciate being called his new flame; nor did she like the assumption of a _ménage a trios_ between the three. Her thoughts of murdering Rita Skeeter were interrupted by the ringing of her phone.

"Oh what…"

"You sure dawlface?"

She couldn't help but smile, "I'm sure Johnny. And if you keep bugging me, it'll be your funeral I'll be attending…"

"Oh! So you'll come to mine and not my grandfathers…!"

"I thought it was your uncles?"

"Ah who can keep up? They just keep dropping like flies. I think my aunt's poisoning them with her lasagnes."

"Well, be sure to try some. Bye."

She hung up and groaned as it rang again.

"I'm not going Johnny."

"Who's Johnny and where are you off to? Not a shag with Wood and Parkinson hmm?"

She shot up, "Oh shut it unless you can help me kill Skeeter."

"Tempting but no. Listen..."

Hermione threw the paper on the table and groaned. "Dom, you never call me unless you want a favour..."

"Well..."

Bingo.

"What?"

By the end of the conversation she knew there'd be a lot more funerals she'd be attending.

"Dammit!"

* * *

"Men and their bloody needs…stupid Homowizds and Parkinson, as if I'd have sex with her …" she'd been silently cursing the whole way to the stadium with Jayden at her heels. Unknown to her, he could hear every word she said.

After an abrupt change of plans, she was now the one to accompany Jayden to Puddlemere stadium, while Dom rushed to the final Homowizds concert featuring Pansy Parkinson

"Come on Hermione, it's the last one ever and I got tickets! Homowizds and Pansy Parkinson, oh come on is _the_ ultimate gay wizards concert. Deny me this and I'll just have to jump into the Thames in winter. You know I'd rather take my nephew but well…oh thanks sweetie I owe you a shopping spree. And don't worry I've already taken care of everything, the hospital knows." Dom had said only a few hours before on phone. He didn't have enough balls to confront her face to face, it'd be suicidal.

So here she was only a few metres from the entrance of Puddlemere's building; a little shaken from apparating with Jayden to Ireland from England.

"I always got into trouble when I used some of those words. Dad used to put the silence jinx on me and then lock me up in a room with Bogart's. It was scary, but I didna say those words anymore," Jayden said, speeding ahead of an irritated Hermione. He stopped and looked at her before entering the office, "Maybe we should lock you in a room too!" he ran inside, and Hermione was left muttering alone again.

"I wouldn't mind locking you up," a patronizing voice said behind her. "Of course, I'd have to check with Pansy, we missed you last night."

She turned to glare at Oliver Wood, who was wearing soft jeans and a white singlet top, holding a brand new Nimbus 3000X broom in his hand. "Sorry had another affair to attend to. You're not the only one with multiple lovers," she sighed and waited for him to reach her. "You're training in that?" Hermione noticed how his muscles bludged from his top and gawked.

"The girls like it," he smiled and added teasingly, "unless you'd rather me in something less?"

"Nightmares Wood," she glared at him and sped into Puddlemere's building, leaving Oliver chuckling behind her.

She saw Jayden standing impatiently next to Maggie Carrie, Puddlemere's Rep who was tapping her foot in annoyance. She had read todays little gossip column and did not like that they entered together. "About time Wood. The world doesn't revolve around you." She turned to Hermione and her look changed from annoyance to disdain. "Oh Ms Granger, hello. I thought Mr Vetrovski would be accompanying Ayden."

Hermione saw the loathing look in those cruel blue eyes and was taken aback. She had done nothing to deserve that menacing look and realized that this woman wasn't somebody she would be befriending any time soon. "It's Jayden. Yes, as you can tell there was a change in plans. Mr Vetrovski the sleaze couldn't make it; he ah…had a very important event which he just couldn't pass up…"

Stressing another fake smile Carrie shook her hand "Wonderful. Well let's get to business. Wood stop standing there and look like you're busy. Go and train."

Hermione noted how she stared at Oliver with a hungry look in her eyes and almost laughed aloud at the irony that an anorexic could adopt a look of starving need. Oliver gave himself a once over and glanced at Maggie with all innocence. "Oh I'm ready Carrie. What's the problem?"

"Who trains in jeans? Go and put your robes on! And then go take-" she paused trying hard to remember the darn kids' name "-Jayden to the rest of the team."

Jayden got up, eager to leave the crazed woman with the foot problem, and stood near Hermione. "Ms Granger if you'd follow me you have some things to sign. Then you can be on your way outside with the rest of the team, doing whatever you have to with the kid." She snarled and went down the corridor.

"She is a ray of sunshine," Oliver stated in his rich Scottish accent, "A wee bit hormonal lately. But the bitchiness, well none of that's for show."

"And to think I was getting the special treatment…Bloody Dom..." Hermione sighed and followed her.

Smiling sweetly, Oliver said, "Well, I hope he has fun at the concert."

Hermione stopped and turned around but Oliver and Jayden were making their way outside already. Anybody could've known about that concert, it was being publicised over clubs, the papers, television; hell the man was supposedly shagging the lead singer. Dom said he was eager to go, but tickets were sold out…

She almost bumped into the wall, as her mind wandered; but shook her head and went on her way.

* * *

Oliver had many questions to ask the fiery brunette, but every time he wanted to talk with her, there was someone always interrupting or pushing them away. He wanted to know her relationship with the kid, why they were so close, how and what was she doing and why the sudden change of character; from the bushy haired bookworm with almost no personality, to the sharp, witty, eccentric witch that she was now.

"Well let's head off shall we Jayden? Oh look there's Bobby."

He was casually leaning over one of the female office workers, obviously and unsuccessfully trying to chat her up, Oliver mused.

Smiling sweetly the young girl pushed Bobby aside and strode off blushing slightly as she passed Oliver. "Hi," she said and practically ran off.

Rice turned and sent Oliver a scathing look, "Lucky bastard. You just look at a chick and she's melting. I have to practically corner her before she makes a move, and it's usually to push me away," he gave Oliver a playful punch.

"Word of advice: lower the arm or use a better deodorant." Oliver said.

It took a while for Bobby to register, "Huh? Oh you're a freggin comedian aren't you, har bloody har. I use Links you moron-"

"Hey not in front of the children," he pointed down at Jayden.

"Oh right, whoops. Jayden right? How ya going?"

"Good," Jayden replied and shook Bobby's hand.

"Ready for some Quidditch? Yeah? Well let's meet the team first shall we?" and the three of them started out to the field. Bobby turned to Oliver, "So I hear Hermione's here. Did she have anything to say about the article in the paper? Does she want to kill you? Where'd you lock her up?" he trailed on.

Oliver's brow shot up at the onslaught of questions, and quite frankly he didn't like it. "She asked about you; if you were single; what you do for a living, if you wanted to go out..."

"Really?" he sounded almost cheerful.

Oliver rolled his eyes, "No." And he'd be damned she said anything like that about another man other than him for the time being. "Come on kid; let's go and meet the coach and team."

* * *

An annoyed Magda Carrie was walking down the long corridor in a childish fit. Oh these prying eyes saw the looks of interest and curiosity exchanged between Oliver and Hermione and she hated it.

She shot Hermione a glare that could freeze Medusa, but Hermione was too absorbed in all the zooming pictures they were passing to even acknowledge the animosity radiating from Maggie, which annoyed her more.

She and Oliver had been going out for about three years before Maggie had broken it off. It was going nowhere and she wanted a huge diamond on her finger and a large portion of his galleons, but Oliver was too absorbed in his Quidditch to even notice.

She never loved him, even he knew that she was more interested in his bank account than him personally, but she did care for the guy a tiny bit, even if she had cheated on him...but that was only to make him notice her depression; that it hadn't been her fault… that he should be lucky to have her. That he shouldn't have blamed her for their…she didn't want to think of it.

"What do you want me to say? Don't leave, I want you? You're the fool Carrie, you cheated, I say good riddance. You should be happy, now you can suck off some other man of his money and pride."

It stung her, but she knew her words in their arguments were harsher than anything he ever said to her.

"You wasted three years of my life. I thought we had something you asshole…we shared a life!. It's all about Quidditch for you and one day, you'll find someone you love and they won't love you, because of who you are. Without Quidditch you're nothing Wood, nothing but a lowly Keeper."

Surprisingly he took it well, only one wall had a hole through it. "I cared about you Maggie, but we both know what you were really after in this relationship and I'll be damned if I give you it. I could forgive you for cheating, but your irresponsibility during those precious months…and what happened afterward- that I can never forgive you for. I should have ended this then. I don't want anything to do with you anymore."

And that was it, well simplified anyway. She had been so mad after that breakup, hell he deserved it for acting like an arrogant fool, and to think she thought she'd purposefully put in danger- . Son of a bitch, she was not revisiting this again.

"We're here," Maggie snapped and stomped into her office and poured herself some Vodka.

"Let's cut to the chase shall we? Because I really don't want to talk to you for too long and I'm sure you want nothing to do with me…"

"No shit," Maggie replied. She hated Hermione Granger, as once upon a time she had gotten to Krum in an influential way- heck they were engaged...well that was before Maggie came along and seduced him, for he was just as wealthy as Oliver and just as appealing...of course Hermione had never know it was her...or any of the other women after her for that matter until Maggie herself set up an incident in which she sent a letter to Hermione informing her that Krum was having an affair and the details of the whereabouts. She had gone, of course, and Maggie had watched in the background, in glee, thinking she had secured the now-single Krum. It didn't work, and she was still working on it until this day.

Too bad Krum still felt something for Hermione, even if it was guilt. Heck she'd probably have more of a shot with Wood. So she'd try for both.

"Right," Hermione muttered, unaffected by Maggies cold hospitality. "So, these forms?"

"What's with you and Wood?"

So that's what this is about, Hermione thought. Not that she hadn't known, even a blind man could see the tension between them two. "Nothing."

Maggie sighed and stood up, don't play dumb with me, she thought. "You seem close. Drink?"

Hermione shook her head. She was a good judge of character and in the little while she knew Maggie, she had an idea that if she accepted Carrie's hostile drink, she'd be poisoned.

"Well you're not approving… obviously. It doesn't take a genius to know you have an issue with the situation-" Hermione put up her hand to silence Maggie's retort. "Before you make an idiot out of yourself- no matter how amusing I would find it- Oliver and I used to go to school together. I hadn't seen him in years until yesterday, at a Quidditch carnival funnily enough-" she ended sarcastically, but Maggie didn't see the humour in it, and handed over the finished forms. "Is that all?"

Maggie was back leaning in her leather black chair, "Let's make it clear so that this week goes smoother than a Hippogriffs ass."

"Oh? A joke?"

"Don't bet on it _sweetie. _Just do what you have to do and less of it with Oliver. Watch that kid, Bruce, Boris or what-"

"Jayden?"

"Sure. Do what you have to and leave. Wood's mine darling, he's just playing around with you. So don't get your hopes up, he does that with women, you know. Lures them in and throws them back out, heartbroken, and by the sound and look of you, you've had that done to you too."

"I don't need this interrogation," Hermione stood up and if she could, she'd have thrown the chair at the insect, and left.

"Oh but this is only the start Miss Granger," she snarled. "You'd better stay away from my Oliver." She played with her wand and decided to give Hermione a little headache. "I'll make sure of it."

* * *

Hermione, seething with anger, thundered down the long corridor, paying no mind to the images that had once caught her attention.

Wasn't it bad enough that she had lost a whole week's worth of work and got woken up by a complete putz with what looked like a cheap floral doorbell, that she was now competing against a woman for a man she knew nothing about and had no interest for, well that was a lie, but she was in too bad a mood to argue.

Maggot Crapface, she fumed childishly, what bloody nerve did that stick have? What's it to her about Wood and I? Not that anything is- God forbid- not that it would be terrible but a Quidditch player, me? Not that it hadn't happened before, but…she really hit hard…WHO THE HELL DESIGNED THIS PLACE?

Yet again her mind wandered as it usually did, unawares that she was just about to slam into a glass door. "Ouch!" she hit her head with her hand an automatic reaction to where the door hit it. "Merlin, ouch!"

Hermione heard a faint giggle and turned to see a tiny woman with short mousy hair and pout features, she recognised as Grace Macintosh, Puddlemere's seeker.

"Don't worry," Grace smiled, "anybody who's just come from a meeting with Mags would want to pound on something."

"I thought they were automatic?"

"Guess it's jammed." She extended a hand, "Grace Macintosh, Puddlemere's-"

"Seeker, I know." Hermione smiled reaching out for the hand. "Hermione-"

"Granger. You're here with Jayden right? The kid who won the competition?"

Hermione nodded, "the very same. I was just about to join them but I can't find…"

"Oh you're flying too then?" Grace asked.

She blanched, "Flying? No what…they're in the air?" Hermione forgot the throbbing pain in her head and the dizziness and followed Grace outside.

She wasn't sure how Jayden would react with the high altitudes with his condition but at first sight she knew he was fine; but she on the other hand felt faint, very faint.

While Jayden was sharing a broom with Bobby, who was teaching him how to steer Hermione staggered to the nearest bench to take a seat, she missed began to fall, hitting her head against the metal seat. She thought she heard Grace asked if she was alright and then saw black.

* * *

From the skies Oliver saw Hermione and Grace talking before parting ways, and then turned his attention to the training session. The team was taking turns to teach Jayden how to fly and what each position does. At the moment Bobby was being steered by the boy, who was being taught how to hit the Bludger with the club.

"I usually pretend I'm smacking the head off an ex-girlfriend, I find that works best," Bobby had said, "but in your case, just pretend you're hammering your brother or cousin."

Jayden was good at it too. Bobby commented that he felt sorry for the poor bugger who Jayden was smacking the hell out of: he never missed. Well except for that time the ball hit Bobby's which left him talking about marrying Margaret Thatcher…

Then he saw Grace run over to Hermione, who had fallen and, what Oliver could only imagine, hit her head painfully hard against the metal. Nobody else had seen the incident; they were all feet higher than him in the air, so Oliver hurriedly zoomed down to them.

"What happened?" he asked and looked for any blood coming from her head.

"Well she just came back from Maggie's Office and smacked her head really hard on the glass door and-" she looked at Oliver and saw straight through him. "Oh you don't think she did anything do you?"

He fumed that was the door they had just walked through an hour before, it automatically opened at sense of a solid figure: a device they had stolen from the Muggles. The door was incredibly thick: magic proof, anybody hitting into it could be concussed for days. "I'll take her to the healer; just make sure Jayden's alright when the sessions finished ok? Don't tell anyone, Hermione would be embarrassed and I'm sure she'd kill me if anyone made a fuss." He picked her up and carried her away.

Grace smirked; he could've just levitated her: it's what he should've done, but Grace sensed there was something else going in that mischievous Scottish mind and hoped Hermione was tough enough to take the heat.

Because, when he was done, she would be left hurt, angry, used and alone and Oliver would've have signed another death warrant.

* * *

Carrie felt very satisfied with herself, Granger was probably going to go home concussed and they'd just get somebody else to fill in her shoes. It wasn't much retribution but it worked so far…

She heard a pounding at the door. "Come in. Oh Oliver, you should've told me you were coming…"

"Don't Carrie; you've gone too far this time you know?" Oliver came to her desk and leaned over her, "You're sick in the head you know that."

She leaned up to him seductively, noses almost touching, "I don't know what you're talking about."

He stood firm, recognising the innocent tone she conjured whenever she wanted to get away from something. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You put a spell on the doors; concussed her. And then she fell and hit her head again on the seats"

Maggie pulled away, inwardly filled with glee at her luck! "She hit into a door? Ever thought the Muggle technology is screwing up? How's it my fault if she's a klutz? Probably like that in bed too...Now," she sighed moving around the desk and pressed herself against him, "I can think of more constructive things to do…"

He pulled away as she leaned into kiss him, "Well you are in your own self-obsessed world…"

"Another thing we share in common. Come join me," she thrust into him and put her lips to his.

Oliver didn't respond at first, he didn't know whether to be repulsed or give into her sultry charms. This was the way she got men, he knew. Maggie charmed them and pulled them in for the kill, hook line and sinker. She mainly seduced rich men, and always got away with it and their money; she was a clever bitch but had yet to ensnare him in her shell.

Getting impatient Maggie wrapped her arms around his neck pulling him even closer to her stick like figure. When he finally gave in, in a battle of tongues and hands, she chuckled softly against him and pulled away. "I knew you still wanted me, so why deny it?"

"Because you're a thieving cow, that's why. Fuck, what am I doing?" he groaned running a strong hand through his thick hair.

Maggie stroked his face, brushing her fingers over his full lips and stubbly cheeks. If she could get him back, maybe they'd still have a chance and she could then have the rich, stable future she always wanted and maybe that little thing he wanted: she just needed him first. Heck if it didn't work, she could always go back to Krum.

"You're here to see me, Oliver. You're alone; you want me despite what you said before."

Oliver didn't know whether to laugh at her or break those fragile bones. He would've preferred the latter, but the former seemed less physical. She was so desperate to get back together with him, her eagerness made him sick. Maggie was just what he didn't need, a clinging, money sucking anorexic that would just use him for his galleons, fame and sex. He had enough of them already.

"I'm alone so there are no witnesses when I strangle you Maggie, so don't get your hopes up," he started to the door. "Leave Hermione alone. I know you did it, that's something your sick mind craves, jealousy and revenge I mean."

Maggie laughed, "Jealous, me? Of her? Don't make me throw up. "

"No you do that after every meal. Look Hermione's just an old house mate in school, that's it. As for us… well, when dogs fly."

"Well if you cared for her so much, why've you spent the last ten minutes with me, Casanova?"

"Well it's not because I want you, Carrie. I'd rather a feral hog."

"Well Granger's perfect for you then."

Maggie cringed as Oliver slammed the door. She felt nauseated and light headed, probably because she drank before she ate anything. It wasn't her fault she was so thin, in this day and age size 8 was fat and fat meant unpopular, unloved and unwanted. She'd do anything to get Oliver back, even if it meant starving herself: that's what he wanted right? What any man wanted?

So she picked up her salad, giving her body what it craved; yet knowing that when she was finished she'd throw it up anyway.

* * *

He was fuming. That cow, how dare she?

He was on his way to the healers to check if Hermione had woken up yet. He wouldn't tell her about Maggie and her devious plots, honestly he didn't want to think about her anymore.

He thought about the kiss and cringed, remembering the feeling from old times, when Maggie was a voluptuous beauty with a soul, and the slight sensation he had every time they locked lips. Back then he thought she was the one: he had never had that experience before, but now years later, he was glad they broke up; he found there were many other fish in the sea that were even easier than her.

He entered the ward and saw Hermione looking slightly dazed, yet fully aware of her surroundings. She was arguing with Bobby, who also had a bandaged head.

"Pringles taste better with French Onion dip," Bobby was saying.

Hermione shook her head, "No wonder your cholesterol is high. You can't dip Pringles, Bobby, that's what crackers are for. Crackers would be out of business if Pringles were the new dipping sensation."

"They're the same thing with flavour Hermione. You can even dip bread in dip…"

Oliver was annoyed, how come Bobby-the least romantic man he knew-could have a conversation with an intelligent woman about a stupid topic and not yet reprimanded and yet when he spoke to her she sliced him at every opportunity? Usually it was the reverse; and he didn't like the change.

The healer rolled her eyes and strode up to him. "They're been going on like this for the last 20 minutes. First it was: what's the best sandwich, cucumber or cheese and onion, just take a guess who's was which; then it was mustard and now Pringles. It's enough to make anyone off their food."

"They must've smacked their heads harder than we thought." Oliver said, glaring at Bobby's bandaged head. "How's Hermione?"

The Healer shrugged her shoulders, "She's fine, at first she was a little restless; but then she took out her wand and zapped herself better. Typical _medi-wizard's_, think they're better than healers."

She walked over to Bobby and took off the bandages, "You're fine Rice, out you go."

Bobby scrunched up his nose, "This healing balm smells Evelyn. Why couldn't you just zap me a spell like Hermione did?"

She hit him on the head, "Out you go now Rice. Shoo."

Bobby got out of bed and made a face to Oliver, "nuts that one," and left. Oliver wondered if he was talking about Hermione or the Healer.

Oliver walked over to Hermione who was shaking her head at Bobby, "That man is something I'll tell you now. I heard you ferried me over here, thanks." Though she looked a little uneasy and wouldn't look him in the eye.

"It was nothing," Oliver shrugged and decided to ignore it. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've got a migraine for ten, but it's going away…slowly." She looked up at him, "thanks for watching Jayden when I was with Maggie, I didn't know I'd take so long."

"Ah, it was nothing, really. But I didn't do it for free."

She froze and Oliver could just imagine her train of thought. Probably something to do with sex and his reputation. He didn't bother to ease her conscience, that's what her type thought: they judged before they knew. A long pause filled the room and he couldn't stand it. "Look I'm jok-"

She cut him off. "Well I'd better be going then, I have to drop by the hospital to see how they all are, one of the nurses came and took Jayden."

Oliver was annoyed that she wasn't as comfortable in his presence as other women were. Was he that repulsive to her? What made her so special that she could ignore him? Did she think she was better than him? Was he only good for his money and looks?

Well then Ms Granger had something coming; because there was no women Oliver Wood could not take or tame. And he was bored enough at the moment to take up a challenge. With a booming voice, so that Evelyn could hear, he cried, "you can't apparate in your state…"

The healer heard, outcome successful, and interrupted, "Oh no you don't Ms Granger, you're in here for at least another hour. I don't care how much magic you put on yourself."

"What? I'm fine, I…" She gave Oliver a dirty look; he pretended to not look affected, "I'm not talking to you anymore…"

"Great start," he smiled for the first time and made himself comfortable in one of the chairs near her bed. Hermione had folded her arms and was glaring at the Healer who fixed up her bandage. He thought she looked like a young child with her wrappings and pout, he chuckled. "Doctors are the worst patients."

"I don't see what's so amusing; and this is a waste of time when I can treat myself- ouch!" the Healer had tightened the wrappings. "I guess I deserved that."

The doors slammed open and Bobby emerged, holding a sandwich. Oliver looked at the clock realising it was 2:00pm, just after lunch.

"Hermione this cucumber sandwich is disgusting, seriously. It's even worse that the medicine you doctors give us."

"Did you put some sauce on it?" Oliver asked.

"Sauce? Did you smack your head too Wood?" Bobby asked, and stood next to him. "Oh by the way Wood, Coach wants to see you now. Something about _Keeper-ing_, I don't know, I was too busy trying not to puke on this sandwich." He turned to Hermione.

"Well I never told you to eat it Bobby," she saw Oliver stand, "you're leaving now?"

"Yeah, can't argue with the coach." Damn it.

Bobby shook his head, "Always putting Quidditch before the mentally ill aren't you?"

"Sorry, you lower my IQ..." Oliver shook his head in and went to the door, listening to Hermione and Bobby gossiping about him now.

"Hey Oliver," Hermione called, chuckling after a remark Bobby said, "How did you know Dom went to the concert?"

He smiled mischievously and turned, "Well, I gave him the tickets."

* * *

SS


	3. A Lovely Interlude

_The Playboy's Pursuit_

_CHAPTER 3: _

**_A Lovely Interlude_**

* * *

**_Darling Viktor,_**

**_You want Hermione back and I her gone; I think this week is the perfect opportunity to make your move. She will be at Puddlemere between 10-2 every weekday watching that little brat. So what I suggest is that you come here pretending to do some crap for your career, or whatever. They of course don't have to know the real reason you're hanging around, that'll be between you and me._**

**_What do you think?_**

**_Maggie_**

* * *

Hermione sat in the seats at Puddlemere shivering as the end of November signified the first signs of winter. She wondered why Puddlemere couldn't have waited until spring to host their competition. It wasn't enough she had to floo over to Ireland each day with an ill child, but the harsh weather was irking her PMS.

Her head was still throbbing from yesterday's fall and her teeth were chattering so fiercely she thought they would turn into dust. Hermione lifted her wounded head from the warmth of her hands as Bobby Rice, who also got his head thumped, but with a Bludger, sat next to her.

"How are you feeling?"

"My heads throbbing and well…I feel like I'm living in the Ice Age. Other than being frozen I'm fine. You?"

He rubbed his gloved hands and noticed Hermione was staring hungrily at them, "Well I can't complain. Why didn't you put on some of those heated clothes in the locker room? I hear they're flying off the hangers…"

Hermione grabbed at the lapels of his winter coat, and relished in its warmth. "What?"

He looked amused at her crazed expression, "Man, you must be freezing. You're about to eat all my clothes off- not that I wouldn't mind, but under the current circumstances, I'd rather not freeze to death…"

"Rice," she warned.

"Though it would be a nice way to end a life…" he trailed off." Maggie was supplying…oh…"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "and in there lays the problem…" She stood.

"Want me to join you? I could be your bodyguard!"

"Oh sweetheart, I would be the one protecting you," and with that she apparated to the change rooms.

* * *

He stepped into the cold showers in Puddlemere United's locker room and cringed as the cold water seared his grazed back.

Oliver was having a bad day, no really bad. Those kind of days you fall out of bed and put your knickers on the wrong way- then wonder why the shrinkage and the massive wedgie; and speculate if it was God's punishment for getting drunk the day before.

He was still in pain from the previous day's brutal Quidditch training session with the coach, and now he had found out his mother was going to stay with him in a few weeks while his lucky father went to Italy.

For Oliver, his family was a really bad scenario; more so than any major shrinkage or a wedgie- his mother to be precise: who was highly fashionable, snotty, and was inspired by the Muggle Hyacinth Bucket: pronounced "Bouquet", thank you very much! She was middle aged, with greying blonde hair, pouty lips and a China collection which would outdo the Queen's. She ironed the curtains, plastic raincoats and her husband's knickers, to which he always whined: 'they're only going to crumble in my ass anyway'; to which his mother curtly replied, 'at least you'll feel the warmth'.

Oh yes, Marjorie Alasdair-Wood was a special one. A haughty perfectionist, who believed all the moons revolved around her, was going to stay with Oliver next week.

Oliver cringed; reminiscing of the time his beloved mother hosted one of her five-course dinners. It was all going well, well, if you called an hour of his mother's singing entertainment, until a part of his dear aunt apparated into the fish tank and the other in a potted plant stationed in the dining room she was entertaining Muggles in. Suffice to say it was a very colourful night, and his aunt had taken it in good humour when for weeks later she was pulling pebbles out of places that pebbles should not belong. Oliver's father when asked how he survived a marriage spanning over 30 years to the woman, simply replied Silencing Charms, and a well warmed bottom.

If his mother wasn't the problem then it was that damned Skeeter woman pestering about his relationship with Hermione Granger.

He stepped out of the cold showers and shivered as the breeze rushed over him. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he went to his locker. After a moment or two of fiddling around with the lock, he opened it and a huge rubber fist came soaring out. Cursing, he maneuvered expertly out of the way, his quick Quidditch reflexes paying off; the fist hitting his shoulder, instead of his face.

"Bloody Rice," Oliver mumbled, knowing very well who the prankster was in this little escapade. Every second training session of the month Bobbie would play some sort of prank on an unlucky team member, and would later reap repercussion which he always enjoyed: some called him mental most knew he was in denial.

Last time Oliver repaid the hoax he'd shrunk a dozen Bogart's into Bobby's pants: they all had a laugh at Bobby who believed Christmas had come early, until he realised it wasn't of his own doing. He stayed away from any sexual activities for at least a week: a record for the Beater.

But Joe, Puddlemere's seeker, was the finest avenger: he was a Muggle born wizard- so he stuck to the traditional ways and levitated a whole load of manure into Bobby's locker; and another time, when Bobby was on leave, left a whole wad of stale meat in his locker: plausibly Bobbie was not impressed, and therefore secretly added the –incredibly- old meat into Joe's lunch: he was out for a whole season with food poisoning and stomach ulcers.

These were the men children looked up to.

Yanking the toy out of his locker, cringing as it made a high piercing cry, he got out his training robes.

Seeing no one was about, he started to change. He knew he had made a mistake just as he dropped his towel- he sensed someone was in the room.

"Oh sh- shoot!" Hermione said embarrassed and quickly turned around to give Oliver some privacy- though all that was long gone. She tried to keep the laughter out of her voice. "I'm so sorry Oliver! I didn't see you….well that is to say, not until I saw the whole of you, but..." she rubbed her eyes and giggled.

Calmly, almost amused, Oliver stood, not in the least embarrassed of his nudity: neither would any man if they saw him on a cold day! – He didn't even reach for the towel, the cocky bugger. Pardon the pun. "Not to worry, it's not like people haven't seen me starker's before."

Hermione blushed: she remembered THAT! A double page spread of Oliver naked except for the smallest amount of cloth covering his manhood. Lavender had shown Hermione the magazine and flicked straight to the page, which was creased from overuse. Hermione found it amusing that she hadn't flicked to the page her husband, Ron Weasley, was modeling- though he was only shirtless leaning against a wall, it didn't have the same affect the Scotsman had.

"-all for charity, of course." He added teasingly and put on his pants, not uncomfortable in the slightest. "But then you're a medi-witch after all. I suppose you're familiar with the human body."

Yes, but of a smaller proportion! She was a pediatrician after all. "Right, that's why we become doctors Woo; we're perverts. Are you decent?"

He chuckled, looking down, "Considering the climate, I'd like to think so."

What, in Merlin's name, did that mean? She thought hysterically. Wasn't it bad enough she was in close proximity to a half-naked man in a change room and all by herself, that now she had to play guessing games of sexual premonition? Imagine the scandal. Granger does it again!

She turned and hoped Oliver thought her rosy cheeks were due to the cold and not by his tanned muscled body. She shivered, "Holy Merlin Oliver, aren't you cold?"

"No not really." He smiled, "But what gave you the impression I wasn't?"

Merlin. She knew what he was doing; what arrogance indeed! Well she wasn't going to fall for the man's charm. "Well two reasons. One: after-a-cold-shower-the-body-demands-a-little-shrinkage-obviously-not-yours-though, but-when-does-anything-you-do-follow-propriety? And two," she took a breath. "You're half naked."

He looked down. "Well who'd have thought? Nice observation Doc."

She rolled her eyes and set her eyes on his, trying desperately not to look down. You appalling wench Hermione, she thought and realised she was staring, as did he. "So what brings you here? Obviously not to spy on me, I'm sure that's a nocturnal activity you'd rather engage in and not during the prying eyes of daylight...though I'm up for anything."

She almost fell. "Har, har Wood. No, I just came to find a jacket or something of the sort. Unlike you Wood, some of us aren't immune to the cold. Do you know where they're stashed?"

He slowly put on his shirt, cringing as he raised he hit shoulder. "Nope, I think they're all gone."

"What happened?" Hermione asked concerned, as she walked to him. She pushed the shirt aside and saw a huge deep bleeding gash which would later, turn into a nasty bruise or be infected. The doctor in her assessed the contusion; she quickly drew back as Oliver winced. "What did you do?"

"It's not serious Hermione. Just a bit of blood, nothing to worry over." He quickly put on his shirt, totally aware of the closeness of their bodies: better to be safe than sorry.

"Oh stop whining, let me have a look." She yanked him onto a chair and removed the shirt.

"Didn't give me much choice did you? Granger!" he hissed as she squeezed his shoulder blade.

She smiled sweetly down at him. "Four year olds don't complain as much as you. This could get infected, it's deep enough." She took out an incredibly tiny bag from her pocket, and at a whispered spell, it opened up, and a whole wad of bottles spilled out. "Where are you…no not you…ooh definitely not you, I wouldn't want him to end up with gangrene…ah here." She opened up a pink bottle and started to spread the warm cream on his bleeding shoulder.

"Pink? Isn't that slightly feminine?"

"Oh hush. It won't kill you to have an effeminate bone in your body Wood."

He looked over at his bleeding shoulder, much worse that what he initially thought: no thanks to Bobby and his bloody prank, then glanced up at Hermione. She was so intent on his wound; she didn't realise he was staring at her.

"All done. It may sting a bit, but in about ten seconds-" the skin around the wound clenched together and closed. "-it'll heal. Oh my god! What happened?" turning she saw his whole back covered in scabs and cuts. "It looks as if these have recently opened up; have you lost it?"

No not mad, but at the moment terribly distracted. "Sweetheart, I lost it years ago," he smiled at a blushing Hermione. "Besides it's just a Quidditch accident. We transfigured a large rock into Bludgers and were using them for training late afternoon yesterday; just after you left actually. Some sort of training technique, anyway I got hit a couple of times. It's nothing serious." He grabbed at her hand, as she was about to add more cream to his back. She would drive him mad applying the warm lubricant on his body and at the moment he wasn't prepared to seduce Hermione Granger.

"Oliver Wood, you are mad you know that." She folded her arms stubbornly. "But fine, get infected and be sore; why would I care."

Oliver saw her shiver and handed Hermione his jumper. "Here, use this."

"No, it's alright…I'll just charm myself to withstand the cold." She numbly reached into her shirt for her wand. Not that any enchantment she knew would warm her up; there was a limit to the spells one could use.

"I insist." He got his things together, ignoring her scowl. "Come we'd best be off don't you think?"

She looked up at him; she'd forgotten why she had been there in the first place. "Right." She put on the Puddlemere jumper noting instantly the warmth it held. It was about four sizes too big for her, but she didn't care the slightest and snuggled up.

"You know you look good in my clothes." Oliver smirked at her and led the way out. He was imagining the scandal; the look on Maggie's face and felt quite satisfied. Let them think, he was having too much fun in the process.

"Oomph," she wasn't looking up and hit into a warm figure.

"You know if you wanted to snuggle, you could have just asked," he smiled and steadied her, his unusually warm hands comforting her.

Shivering she glared up at him and decided to ignore him. "My God Wood! Are you human? Why aren't you cold?" She groaned in frustration at all that had just happened and stormed off toward the stands.

He looked after her, but didn't move. His back was searing with pain; maybe he should've let her patch him up. Oliver shook his head. He had better be careful with this little witch, there was vulnerability about her; something suggesting she was fighting her own demons behind her spit-fire facade. If only he could figure out why. Oh, it was none of his business he knew, but he liked a challenge and she was too uptight for her own good. Even better, she hadn't been totally unaffected by their little rendezvous in the lockers, and who wouldn't' be? He was Oliver Wood!

And with that in mind, he followed her out.

* * *

"You're looking delightfully flustered Hermione, what did Maggie do to you?" Bobby joked as Hermione stomped up toward their seat in the stands, Oliver's jumper dwarfing her.

Resigning herself to a moment of immaturity, Hermione poked her tongue at him. "Thankfully, Carrie wasn't there." For more reasons than you know, she thought. She had left Oliver in the locker rooms, relishing the absence of his broad figure so close to her own. My god what a chest! It had been so long since she was close to man she had almost let her guard down. She wouldn't again.

"You know when I mentioned there was charmed clothing in the locker rooms, I didn't mean Wood's' jumper. Now you smell like him."

"Who says its Oliver's?" Now that he mentioned it, it smelled distinctly of him: arrogance (had arrogance aroma), rain and pine. She felt dizzy.

"When you've known the man as long as I have, you notice a lot of things. For example, I bet you now his body temperature is in the high 30's unlike us mortals." He gestured towards the broad figure guarding the posts.

She spluttered, "I'm not even going to ask."

A mischievous twinkle shimmered in his eyes. "You didn't have to. I could tell."

Hermione blushed deeper and changed the subject. "How's your head?"

"Thankfully on my shoulders. Ouch," she flicked his head. "Point taken."

She found her wand in her shirt, with much ease this time, her hands weren't about to fall off, and chanted a spell. "There you go. It should be better, just don't tell your Healer, she'd kill me."

"Never trust a woman with wands, I say. What the-?" he stood up as a crowd led by Maggie emerged from the building. "Oh boy, it's Krum."

Viktor Krum, tall, dark and exceedingly handsome, stalked in arrogance toward Wood who had grudgingly come down off his broom. The others followed, along with them Hermione's charge.

_Damn it Jayden_! She and Bobby raced down the stands both for different reasons of course: Bobby to bask in the tension between his Captain and Krum and Hermione to usher Jayden out of the mix, hopefully avoiding Krum in the process. She quickly realised she was too late; the little boy was center of attention.

She pushed past the crowd, muttering apologies as she reached the centre. She had noticed the curios looks on all the players' faces as they had notices she was wearing a certain Keeper's jumper.

"Jayden what on earth are you doing? Let's go," she looked down at the boy who smiled toothlessly at her. The little suck up.

"Not to worry, he is quite charming actually," said Krum in his thick Bulgarian accent.

She wasn't stupid; she saw the look of disdain in his brown eyes; he didn't like children whatsoever. She looked over at Wood, and if looks could kill, Krum would've been six feet under by now. She muttered, "Shows what you know about children."

He smiled, "what are you doing here Hermione?"

If she was startled to hear he pronounced her name properly she didn't show it. She saw him look at the jumper she was wearing and his jaw clenched: no doubt he knew who it belonged to. One look at Maggie and there was no denying the fact SHE knew it too. "That's my concern Viktor. Anyway we'd best be off. I'm sure you have a lot of boring Quidditch nonsense to babble about, right Maggo-, er Magda?"

Oh how she hated that name, Maggie winced. "Yes Ms Granger. Quite important."

Krum caught her arm and whispered in her ear, "I must speak with you, it is about Damir."

Hermione winced. Hadn't he thrown in his nephew she would've told him to take a hike; but she adored the child as he did her. "It not fair throwing him into the mix Viktor," she sighed. "Is he ill?" she glanced over at Oliver who was trying not to look annoyed.

He shrugged, "We do not know what it is, and the mediwizard's in Bulgaria have no idea."

Hermione nodded, "Very well then. I'll see what I can do. Come along Jayden, we've got to get you back." She turned to the group, "thanks for everything. See you tomorrow." She turned and started off; then stopping to remove Oliver's jumper, accidentally showing off her small waist and the curve of her full hips. She tossed it to him, "Thanks Wood. No wonder you're always so warm."

As she turned away from the shocked looks of Krum and Maggie; the highly amused of Oliver, and the rest of the team; she laughed and raced Jayden back to the building where they would apparate off.

* * *

They were in the conference room and he still held onto the jumper Hermione threw at him, noting it smelled remarkably Hermione's citrus perfume. He tossed it aside. Nothing of significance had happened between them, but she seemed to be on his mind: constantly. And the little stint just before burned the witch permanently in his mind.

He saw Viktor Krum take a seat opposite him, carelessly flirting with some of the office women who went up and asked for his autograph. Krum sent him a wink and signed another autograph. Oliver turned; facing Bobby who had that too familiar Cheshire grin on his face when he knew something was up.

"Don't start Rice. Not in the mood."

Bobby chuckled, "No, but I bet you were in the locker room. Ouch, okay, okay." he laughed, half in pain, as Oliver tightly squeezed his side. "Relax dahling." He added, highly accented in Slavic tones.

"I'll be relaxed afterward when I beat the shit out of you. As for the little prank you played on my locker, you had better watch out!" He hissed and turned back to Krum, who was now staring oddly at Oliver.

"What brings you here Krum?"

"Business, among other things," he relaxed back in the chair. "You seem a little touchy today. Anyone I know, or may have recently become reacquainted with?"

Bobby tried to hide his amusement but failed remarkably, wincing as Oliver pinched his side again. "Bastard," he mumbled.

Oliver casually leaned over the table, elbows resting comfortably against the hard wood. He tried to ease the strain out of his voice. "Absolutely not. So Krum, what's the news."

"I'm thinking of becoming a part of Puddlemere United's team."

The six players were caught off guard at the sudden revelation, even Oliver himself. The other members around the table nodded in agreement.

"Care to explain?"

"You heard me right Wood, I might join Puddlemere."

Oliver wanted to punch the smirk off the bastard's face. Wasn't he supposed to be retiring? Krum wasn't supposed to be joining his team; dammit. He turned to Maggie who was smirking.

She stood with a bundle of thick booklets in her arms. Walking around the table, she placed one in front of each person. "Oh stop being so cruel Vikki. Poor Wood and Rice are about to have coronaries! Not that I would've minded if it was the end of the season, but we need them for now."

"Again with the jokes Madge, on a bloody roll." Rice sighed. "You expect us to read this? It's thicker than your waist line."

Maggie rolled her eyes, "No just look prettily at it; of course you read it idiot."

Bobby mimicked her, earning him a silent reprimand from his coach.

"As I was saying, I might join; which is why I'm here to assess-" he glanced at Oliver. "Not to worry, it won't be on the field."

"Get to the point man."

Maggie glared at him, "that's no way to talk about the club's future President."

Grace choked on the water she was drinking, "What!"

"Obviously they don't pay you for your brains here," Krum chided. "As you can see your President isn't in the room, is he? No he left officially last week. That is why I am here; you need some spicing up; someone young on the board who can give a bit of life to this dull team. Of course, I in no way support the English league; though I have some close contacts within-" he glanced at Oliver, "- it to have some sort of connection 2ith the club. Come the start of the new season in January, I may be managing Puddlemere United."

Two hot heads of the game in one club should be interesting, Oliver thought. But it wasn't.

After a few hours discussing the details and the changes, everyone except Krum and Oliver left the room.

Oliver was still sitting his seat, not uttering a single word since the revelation. His voice was husky from the silence. "I don't know what game you're planning, but I know for a fact you're not interested in becoming President." he stood up. "I don't know why you're here but I'd bet anything Maggie had something to do with it."

Krum looked up, bored. "Maggie is but a worthless bug, and useless to my cause."

"I'm sure she'll be happy to hear that. Though it makes me wonder why you fucked her when you were with Hermione."

Krum's glaze darkened, "Hermione needed to learn that unless she pleased me I could never be faithful. Maggie was just an example."

Oliver sent him a look of disgust, "You're a fucking idiot Krum; thank God she left your sorry arse."

Krum yanked at Oliver's shirt and pulled him off the seat, "keep it up Wood, and I will be more than happy to knock you off the team and out of the League for good once I become President." He let him go, "had I had any trepidation of leading the club, it has all gone now that I know I have control over you. Better be good to me then, and stay away from Hermione."

He deserved a medal for the anger he was controlling. It took all his strength not to clock Krum one in the jaw. Fucking asshole, Oliver would have none of it. Puddlemere would have to decide whether they wanted Krum or himself, no way were they getting both. That he could deal with, but he be damned if this pompous arse had any say over Hermione.

"I'll do what I want and how I want to Krum. You got nothing and you know that. Hermione won't go back to you and she won't let you control her."

Viktor smiled, all teeth. "Shows how little you know about our little Muggle born. She will come back to me; she knows she is not good enough for more. And I always get what I want." And he slammed the door behind him

* * *

She apparated back to the hospital and put Jayden back into Dom's care. She was not allowed to stay long, she was ordered off work for the rest of the week. As Jayden was retelling the rest of the children in his ward of his adventures, Dom led Hermione outside the social area.

"Alright you tart, what happened today?" Dom asked excitedly and waved his arms. "Tell the gossip. Was that Carrie bitch on you again?"

"What? No. But I saw Oliver Wood naked and it turns out Viktor Krum is going to be around for a bit, but otherwise nothing." Silence. She glanced at Dom from over her shoulder and saw his eyes wide and mouth open. "And Dom, that man is mighty fine shirtless."

"I knew it. Oh girl, you always get the lucky breaks..." he sighed and popped a jelly bean in his mouth. "So Vikki's back eh? What are you going to do?'

She took a jellybean from the packet and popped it in. "That was years ago Dom; I think he thinks he has some sort of hold over me-"

He rolled his eyes. "How long has it been since you've had sex?" she scowled at him. "I'm no Dr. Phil, but I know that bitch has had some effect on you. You don't go out, you don't date, he verbally abused you and beat up your self-esteem you don't think you're deserving enough to be happy."

She was going to be sick, "I don't want to talk about this Dom."

He hugged her, "I know sweetheart, but I hate that dick-prick probably as much as you do." He took a deep breath, "you need an affair."

She pushed as his arms, way to lull one into a false sense of security, "What?"

He shrugged, "Why not? Have a shag-a-thon with some really good looking guy and dump him afterwards."

She quirked a brow, "So, what? Do what Krum did to me years ago? No thanks."

"No I didn't say that, an affair is not a committed relationship anyway. Have a bit of fun, and then end it. People do it you know."

She rolled her eyes skywards, give me strength. "I don't think so Dom."

"You see, that's your problem, you think too much. Just relax and let it go."

Let it go. Right. Perhaps she should have a shot with the milk man? She brought he gazed to the children. "Dominic look," she pointed at Jayden. He slightly twitched in his seat, his left hand shaking only slightly. "That's not right."

She hurried over to him, interrupting his story. "Are you alright Jayden?"

His blonde head bobbed up and down, "Yes Doc, I'm fine. I was just telling Cassandra how I accidentally hit Bobby Rice with a Bludger." He turned away from her and started telling them his story. "It was so funny!"

She stayed a little longer, chuckling slightly at his over exaggerated story. "He fell off his broom and I swooped and saved him!" and kept a keen eye on the young boys hand.

After his story-telling, she walked over to Dom, worry overshadowing her eyes. "Keep an eye on him Dominic, it may be my imagination but I could've sworn I saw him shaking."

"Don't worry, you just go home and get some rest. You look pretty warn out, god knows what you get up to over there." He handed over her wand. "Why don't you have a shagathon with the Keeper?"

Mentally promising to him, she apparated home.

Just as she was about to lie down, there was a knock on her door.

"Herm-ione, dawl!" she heard the familiar drawl.

"Go away Junior, I'm not home."

"Come on open up."

"Ugh, you're a pain in the pudendum you know that!" she sighed and opened the door. She laughed at him; he was wearing a Santa suit.

"Pudendum? Is that like Pendulum?"

"It means external genitals, Junior, in your case I mean bottom. Why in the world are you wearing that?" she ushered him inside and offered a drink; he refused both.

"No thanks dawl, I've got to head off to a party. Just wanted to know what you thought of the suit."

It looks ridiculous, she thought. "You look, um, nice. Really, it brings out your eyes."

He seemed to cheer at the compliment. "Nice, cause you know I hear chicks dig a man in uniform."

Oh Junior, you're digging yourself a grave, she thought. "I'm sure you'll be a hit. Now go, or you'll be late!"

"Just one more thing. It's kinda personal…"

"What?"

He turned around and looked over his shoulder, "Does my Pudendum look big in this?"

She rolled her eyes and shut the door**_._** She didn't want to look at anymore bottoms today

* * *

SS


	4. Battle Grounds

**The Playboy's Pursuit**

CHAPTER 4:

_Battle Grounds_

* * *

"_And in other news, a brutal snow storm is set to hit the United Kingdom this winter; at this moment in time specialists are unsure when the storm will hit, though are predicting its arrival within three days. It is advised that people should stay indoors throughout its ordeal and stock up on essentials. Hey Darren, I got a joke: what did one raindrop say to the other raindrop?"_

"_Oh, I do not know Gordon. What did one raindrop say to the other raindrop?"_

"_My plop is bigger than your plop."_

_(Over exaggerated newsreader laugh)_

"_Hey Gordon, what did one thermometer say to the other thermometer?"_

"_You make my temperature rise?"_

"_Ha-ha…oh, you've heard it…"_

_(An awkward newsreader silence)_

"_We'll keep you updated throughout the week, but now it's off to Peppy La Pew for the latest on the Big Brother scandal: housemates try to steal the diary room chair…"_

Hermione switched off her Muggle television and looked at her watch, "Bugger!" it was almost 10.00 and she still had to get to the hospital and organise arrangements to Ireland for the day.

Picking up her plain leather backpack she ran out the door only to find herself in the company of her neighbour Johnny Junior. "Oh Merlin…"

"Yo Darlin', where you heading?"

"To work Johnny. You know what people do on a daily basis in order to survive and be of use in society," she shuddered as a gust of cold wind blew through her clothes. "You should try it sometime…"

Johnny looked to the side, "Nah. I get corns in my feet if I do any strenuous exercise. Hey! Did you hear about the Big Brother scandal?"

She looked at her watch impatiently, "Yes I've heard it Johnny…"

"Yeah that was my cousin who started that; before he went in he told my about it; absolutely genius if you ask me, a pity it didn't work…"

She clucked her tongue, "Well obviously brawn… of a sort… dominates over brains in your family…" she walked over to her car ready to drive to Diagon Alley. "I have to go Johnny."

"Huh? Yeah sure go, just be careful dawl, this snow storm sounds bad."

"I'll try," she mumbled and rolled down the window Johnny was tapping on. "Yes?"

"Hey, what's the difference between the weather and climate?"

"What!"

"What is the difference between the weather and climate?"

"No not that, I hear the question I was just commenting on the stupidity of the situation…" she shook her head, _everyone's with the bloody jokes today aren't they_?

"Ok I'll tell you. You can't weather a tree…but you can climate…!" he started to laugh- if you could call it that: it sounded like a pig feasting in a trough and then chocking. He abruptly stopped in confusion.

"Do you even understand the joke?"

"No"

She smiled a painful smile. "Goodbye you poor, poor man."

She sped off and winced at the horrid sense of humour society was producing in its state of peril.

* * *

Viktor Krum was sitting in her office at the hospital when she arrived, his ten year old nephew sitting beside him; spots all over his body. Well this was too easy, clearly the child had chickenpox. She'd give him some salve and he'd be healed in a few days.

"Hello Damir, my how you've grown!"

The child smiled and blushed, hiding his face in his uncle's robes. "Come now boy, why are you so shy, it's Hermione." His scowl broke as he gazed at her. "Chickenpox no?"

She nodded, "Yes, easily cleared up." She turned to the boy. "It itches doesn't it?"

He nodded and started to scratch.

Krum was getting annoyed. "You have a mouth Damir, use it. Stop scratching."

She glared at her ex. What she saw in the arrogant Bulgarian she had no idea. "You don't have to get nasty with him, he's just a child and he has reason to be shy, we haven't seen each other in years, isn't that right Damir?"

Shrinking away from his uncle, he nodded and spoke, "Yes Herm-in-o-ne."

"See?" turning around towards her cupboard she furrowed through until she found the ointment she was looking for. "Here we are Damir, put this on twice a day for a week and you'll be free from the spots by Friday. But make sure you don't scratch, because it'll leave scars and you wouldn't want that!" She smiled at him and handed him some sweets. "You can bring him back in a few days or if he has a reaction to the cream; I have to go now, I'm already late no doubt I'll be seeing you there?"

"Yes," Krum muttered, annoyed to be rushed. "I must talk with you."

Hermione mentally rolled her eyes; it wouldn't surprise her if he'd brought the child in just as an excuse to hound her. "I'm sure whatever you say bears no importance, and I really must go. Damir, I hope you get better soon. Stay away from your sister, or she'll get it too okay?" the boy nodded and Krum took him out of her office, his grip a little too tight on the child's hand.

"Bye Herm-in-o-ne."

"Bye Damir," she said. There was a thought nagging at her in the back of her mind that the interlude hadn't gone as Krum had expected it to. She was too late to contemplate so gathered Jayden and prepared to apparate.

* * *

"She's avoiding me too much," Krum shot at Maggie; he'd just arrived at Puddlemere after dropping off his annoying nephew with his even more harrowing mother. He had figured the kid would be his ticket to see her more, but she had dismissed the situation quickly. "It is not going to work."

Maggie stopped swirling around in her chair and glared at the Bulgarian Seeker. "Ugh, that's the problem with men, you give up too quickly. Women like men who are persistent and make an effort, no wonder you two didn't last."

Krum slammed his hands against her desk, "It was your fault it ended. Deny it all you want, but you set it up so Hermione would find out..."

She rolled her eyes, "you were screwing me before that interlude, and you've only yourself to blame."

He swore, "Damn all women. Sluts the lot of you."

Ever the melodramatic. "You only want her because you're pissed she left. I don't see her appeal, she's pretty enough in an average sort of way, but you could do better." She raised a brow, "were you feeling charitable?"

"Jealous?" Krum snarled.

Maggie pushed up off her chair and stood in front of Krum, trailing a finger across his lips. "Hardly, but you know what I've thought, we've gone about this the wrong way." She started unbuttoning his shirt, and kissed her way down the exposed skin. "I don't like Hermione and you don't like Oliver; you want Hermione as I do Oliver." She started at his jeans, and then cupped him through his underwear. "Why don't we see where this little affair goes hmm? And if it gets serious enough," she sucked his nipple, "then we can destroy it. Publicly. You get back at your bitch and Oliver gets slammed?"

His breath hitched as she now stroked him, flesh on flesh. It had its appeal. He brought his tongue to her necked and sucked. "How can you be sure there is something going on?"

She stopped stroking him and lightly tugged, he bit her neck. "I've known Oliver for a long time; he's got that look about him. And even if there isn't, we could nudge them along."

A part of him thought that maybe they were jumping to the wrong conclusion; that their jealousy was creating scenarios that were far from the truth. But he was a possessive man, and Hermione was an attractive woman. He wanted to hurt her for leaving him; he, of all people. Why the fat bitch should have been lucky to have had him in the first place. He wanted revenge, and it was quite a nice coincidence that his nemesis could go down too. Krum couldn't take her stroking and squeezing any longer and shoved her onto the desk spreading her legs. She wasn't wearing any underwear and was already soaking wet. She always was an easy screw. Ripping off her blouse and bra he latched onto a breast and sucked hard.

She gasped as he plunged himself into her and held his mouth to her breast**. **Her hurt and jealousy was driving her out of her mind, and she wanted him to feel it too. Thrusting her hips into Krum's, he thought of Oliver as she came and planned her next step.

* * *

Fortunately she and Jayden had no problems apparating with a specialized Wizbulance (a sort of medical courier) to Ireland: the horrible temperature in London had yet to arrive at Puddlemere stadium.

"Thank you Colin, we'll be fine from here."

"No worries Ms. Granger," Colin Creevy said and left with a pop.

Hermione and Jayden slowly made their way toward the entrance of the stadium, the little boy looking slightly pale and withdrawn. "Are you feeling okay Jayden? Because you must tell me if you're not-"

He looked up and smiled toothlessly. "I'm fine Doc, I promise. We're flying again today; Bobby's going to show me how to hit the ball and stuff!"

The first person they saw through the doors was Maggie Carrie, looking bug like as usually, though oddly flushed. Her head looked large in comparison to the rest of her stick-like figure, and her high heels accentuated her long longs. Today she was wearing a knee length black skirt and a low cut V-necked cream shirt and a thin black belt around her waist. Hermione on the other hand was adorned with faded hipster jeans and a long-sleeved hooded sweater: In comparison to Maggie, she looked like a Plop.

The said Bug was leaning over the counter, holding her head; she felt incredibly dizzy, was flustered and hot and in no mood for Hermione Granger. "They're outside in the sheds, knock before you enter though. I don't know if you're delicate sensibilities could handle a whole team of men naked."

Hermione rolled her eyes and headed outside with Jayden. She stopped short in front of Maggie and flicked up her lids. "What are you doing Granger?"

Hermione whipped out a light instrument from her pocket and checked out Maggie's pupils. "You should rest, or eat something that's why you're feeling faint." She stood back and placed her hands on her hips. "Not to mention it's 16 degrees outside and you're wearing that. You're asking for a bout of pneumonia."

Maggie rolled her eyes if only she knew what had just been doing a few minutes ago. "Just mind your own business, okay?"

Hermione smiled, shocking both her and Maggie, "Take me as a doctor and not an enemy: get some rest _Magda; _oh and there's always a time and place fo_r those _sorts of activities. Who was it this time, the janitor or the accountant?" She smiled bitterly and exited with Jayden at her heels. Hermione: 2; Maggie: 1.

As Jayden walked excitedly toward the pitch, Hermione wondered where her problem was hiding at this minute. Hopefully the handsome cretin was dressed this time and zooming somewhere in the Himalayas far from her.

By the time they had reached the pitch Hermione was flustered not only from the Cretin who as now in sight, but also due to the cold wind that had blown from nowhere, and was piercing her skin. Global Warming didn't exist my arse!

"You're looking all hot and flustered, on this fine freezing morning Hermione," Bobby had flown up behind her and needless to say had scared the shit out of her. "But then, I do have that effect on people."

She bought a shaky hand to her pounding heart, "Oh you silly prat, you scared me."

He flew in front of her and turned to face her, hands behind his head. "All part of the charm."

She smiled, not at his comment, but rather at the fact he was about to hit a tree. She turned and walked toward Oliver who was in an argument with the Viktor Krum.

"Oh for Merlin's sake, can we discuss this later? I don't want to think about next season at the moment," Oliver ran a hand through his windswept hair. "We've got a good team, why split it up?"

"It's not about splitting you up; it's about cutting down costs and putting certain players in reserve grade-"

He held up a hand, his temper was over boiling point. "We're a team, we've been fine together for the past 5 season and we have more than enough money-"

"We'd have even more if we got rid of you!" Krum hissed and walked away from Oliver. "Ah Hermione, how are you?"

Her brow furrowed; why was he talking to her? "Fine Viktor, and yourself?"

He shrugged, "Could be better, of course there is no way to reason with a hothead like Wood." he turned to Oliver who was kicking up dirt, hands in his pockets.

"I'm quite certain it is called for; I know that from experience dealing with an arrogant sourball such as yourself is a harrowing venture."

"Ah of course, the lovely British hostility that I have become so fond of," he drawled, caressing her cheek.

She wanted to get away from him. "Make sure Damir puts the cream on twice a day and by Friday it'll be gone."

"It look like we are in for quite a winter this year," he turned to Wood, "Watch her won't you?" He then growled incoherently under his breath and apparated away. Phew, talk about a change in subject.

Watch her? He wasn't planning to take his eyes off her, especially with that arsehole around. Oliver approached Hermione who was now accompanied by Bobby. She was checking the shoulder he slammed into the tree with. "Serves you right" she was saying.

"Krum, total womanizer, asswipe and sleaze bag, with no pleasing attributes whatsoever." Oliver said when he reached her, Hermione merely lifting a brow.

"I suppose not," Bobby remarked. "With all his galleons, looks, intelligence and his four estates not to mention a couple of boats and now possibly a Quidditch team, I really can't see his appeal: oh and he's single! Ouch, shit!" Oliver pinched at his shoulder.

Hermione pulled down Bobby's sleeve and looked up at Oliver. "I see you don't think much of him."

"No, not personally."

"Any reason?"

"Yes."

He wasn't going to elaborate. "Fair enough." she wasn't going to argue, she hated him too.

They stood watching each other, Bobby left to looking between the two. He suddenly got a headache and raised his hands in defeat, "It's draining watching you two."

Staring at each other a few seconds longer, they decided to follow Bobby to the rest of the team who were getting all their gear ready to fly. "You plan to have a go?"

"No."

"Any reason?"

"Yes."

He smiled mischievously at her, a plan forming in his head. "Fair enough."

She was flirting with Oliver Wood. Damn Dom and his musings; not that she would of course have an affair with Oliver...not that it wasn't tempting...but... Hermione sighed; there was something about him that brought out the pubescent adolescent in her.

She looked over at Oliver, who thankfully was wearing clothes: a black turtle neck with black jeans. He looked like he was about to rob a bank, and damned if she could handle it. Rats. She sat at one of the benches and continued her study of him.

There something about a tall man, with a wicked smile and carefree hair. He reminded her of a young Gerard Butler in his Dracula days. He could suck her neck at- holy hell. PG thoughts Hermione, PG thoughts. He wasn't overly muscular, but just enough; had broad shoulders tapered nicely at the waist, strong, muscled thighs… he was fit, toned and…but damn, wasn't there a lake nearby?

"There's a spare broom if you want a go." Oliver had flown behind her and whispered into her ear, sending small shivers down her body.

"I do not see how straddling thin sticks, with absolutely no safety equipment whatsoever, kilometers skyward could be all that appealing."

Oliver simply chuckled huskily in her ear, "You're right of course, the thicker the better."

He was the most infuriating man she had ever the displeasure of meeting. And feeling a little bold replied, "Perhaps, though from my understanding, size is not always a measure of performance."

He scoffed and flew into the air grinning, "You're right of course, it takes a man of experience and technique to reach such peaks."

Before she could reprimand him, Oliver had made his way toward the rest of the team, a huge Cheshire grin on his face. "You guys reckon you can train by yourselves today? I wanna have a little fun."

"What have you got planned for the poor girl?" asked Grace.

Oliver looked down at Hermione. "I think our little doctor friend needs to loosen up a little. What do you say Jayden?"

Jayden, who was proudly riding a broom all by himself today, gave Oliver two thumbs up, under the watchful eye of Bobby and Grace.

"Alright then Romeo, we'll leave you to it."

"Oh can't I watch?" whined Bobby.

"No," said Grace and yanked at Bobby's ear pulling him toward the Quidditch pitch a few fields away; the others followed suit.

* * *

The wind was stronger now, and Hermione feared for Jayden's strength, though trusted Oliver and the team enough for them to do their job. She saw eight of the nine fly off toward the pitch and wondered where the ninth member had flown to. She stood as if to follow suit and turned around only to have a powerful force swept her off her feet and into the air.

"AHHHHHHHHHH!" she screamed and looked down: she was now over 20 meters in the air. "WOOOOOOOOOODDDDD!"

He laughed at her, "How'd you know it was me?"

"Because," she shut her eyes and held on tightly at him. "Because you fool, you're the only one inconsiderate enough to do such a thing. AHHHHHHH!" he soared even higher in the air, she could feel the wind was stronger whipping against her body. "Oh God."

Oliver stopped in midair, and allowed Hermione to sit up in a more comfortable position: though she wouldn't budge, nor would she open her eyes. "Hermione, it's not that bad, open your eyes."

She held onto his neck tightly, "Yes it is, I'll see your face: which will be deformed when I get off of this. Put me down!"

Oliver rolled his eyes, "It's kind of hard when you're clinging to me for dear life. You're not going to die Hermione."

Hermione opened one eye, only to peer and Oliver's amused face, "No but you will." She opened the other and looked anywhere but down. She gulped. "Merlin's balls."

He held onto her waist and could feel the swell of her hips beneath his hands, he held on tighter. Her face was flushed, her cheeks were red and her rather brilliant curls were billowing around her. She was quite pretty; he thought and shook his head.

"Just look around Hermione, it's a wonderful view. Don't be a chicken."

Her head snapped at him and her hands tightened around his neck, "Chicken? Uh nuh, you did not just call me, Hermione Granger, a chicken."

"Stranger things have happened. I mean, you're part of the trio that defeated Voldemort, have become the youngest head witch in the medical profession, have created countless numbers of defense spells and was the brightest witch at Hogwarts _ever_, and yet…" he paused at a moment's ponder, "You're still afraid of heights. Chicken."

She glared at him and then gathering all her courage moved herself from his hands and turned on the broom so he was now straddling her. "Alright then Wood let's ride this…thing."

Dirty thoughts crept into his mind and he tried not to flirt with her mercilessly: he was already in her bad books and he didn't want to end up dead. So he pushed off and showed her how to maneuver the broom and how to hold it properly. She was a fast learner, and he thought about showing her a couple of tricks but decided not to: the weather was getting fierce and the sky was turning into an angry black.

"Let's head back shall we?"

"Oh yes, please!" Hermione replied, just a little too over enthusiastically, "near the pitch?"

"Yeah," and they set off, but not before Oliver chuckled and dove into a Wronski Feint.

"OLIVER!"

* * *

Meanwhile up in the air, Jayden was having the time of his life. Bobby was arguing the technique of hitting a Bludger with Grace. And when she'd aimed one at him, he was torn between admiration and indescribable pain; Jayden and Joe had found it hilarious.

Jayden suddenly stopped giggling and felt faint; he held his little hands to his head and held them there for a time.

"Are you okay Jay?" Grace asked, and flew toward him.

Jayden started to nod and then his whole body started to shake. Grace had no time to grab him before he fell and Bobby was still recovering from the hit to his chest to even register the accident. Still though he dove when he heard Grace's call, but he was too late. Jayden was about to hit the ground with a deadly thud.

* * *

Rain started to pour down by the time Oliver settled her to the ground, and the wind was that strong, even he struggled to stand still.

Hermione meanwhile couldn't get off the broom fast enough and glared at Oliver, who had just moments before caused them to come crashing down toward the earth.

She had no time to reprimand him when she heard Grace's scream and barely saw Jayden falling from his broom; the rain so heavy it felt like rocks crashing on top of her. "Oliver!"

But he had already seen him and was off in a flash. By the rate he was going he couldn't make it to the falling child. "Come on, damn you." He urged the broom. "Come on!"

The only way he could build up speed was by a Wronski Feint. He flew up a few metres before angling himself toward the falling figure. He prayed it would work.

Hermione, meanwhile couldn't look, the regret and remorse she would feel at losing one of her patients was growing. "Come on Oliver," she prayed and ran toward them, hoping to aim a spell which would slow the rate of the fall. In these conditions, it was a slim chance.

She heard a thud sound and cried, "Jayden!"

Suddenly a figure flashed before her. Realising it was Oliver who had Jayden in his grasp she cried in relief. "My God, Oliver…."

She took the child from Oliver's grasp and realised he was having an epileptic fit, "Damn! We've got to get him to a hospital, and quickly!"

She started to take out her wand but Oliver held her back. "We can't, not in this weather; you're going to have to contact them some other way lass."

"How!" she shouted at him over the howling wind. "His condition is worse than another child's." She fired a spell at him and his tiny body calmed down. "He has a heart problem and if he's in shock…my god!"

But Oliver hadn't heard, he was shouting orders to his other team mates and suddenly a medi-wizard had appeared with a magical umbrella which sheltered them within a 20 meter radius from rain. "Give me the boy; in this condition it is dangerous to even transport the sick from country to country."

Hermione had managed to settle the boy who was now unconscious, thanking her quick mind to hit him with the right spell. "What do you mean?"

"I mean Ms. Granger that the brutal snow storm has hit and all our apparating stations and pathways have been blocked from country to country. I could only manage to get here because the Transport Department at the Ministry is protecting this road but only for a few more minutes; unfortunately I can only carry one passenger, and I'm sure you'll want it to be the child."

"Yes, yes of course," Hermione had replied; she didn't even consider how she'd get home. "How long will it be like this for?"

"About a week after this storm cell has dissipated; I don't know how long that will be."

"What?" she spat, where the hell was she supposed to stay?

"I must be off Ms. Granger, the nurses have told me they will look after the young boy until you arrive; we'll have it all under control."

She flung her arms madly before her, "This is not good enough, no other healer knows his medical history as I do!"

"I am sorry but it is dangerous enough taking him over; we have his filed and I am certain Dr Meredith will do her job." And with a pop he and Jayden had gone.

"Ah!" Hermione cried in frustration: _just great_. She was left with her wallet, a wand and the soaking clothes she was in; not to mention she was away from her patients.

"Training's over," Oliver said and shooed the group off. "I don't think we'll be meeting up here again for a while." For a few more minutes the team discussed their training plans for the next few days, before apparating away.

Hermione, Oliver and Bobby were left standing under the spell that protected them from the rain; which would only hold up for a few more minutes. "This sucks."

"Sure does, I am so sorry Hermione; I should've kept more attention to him…" Bobby started.

She walked up to him and hugged him, "You couldn't have done anything; besides you're hurt too. Why don't you apparate back to the office and I'll treat you there."

"But what about the pathways? And what about that nutcase of a healer? She'll kill us!" He tried to make the situation a little more bearable, Hermione smiled but it only just made her eyes.

"Pathways between countries are blocked, but I'm sure within Ireland it's okay."

"And the healer?"

Hermione sighed and hit his shoulder, "We'll take her on."

He crossed his fingers and apparated with a pop. Hermione was just about to do so when she realised Oliver was with her. "Wood!"

He cringed at her menacing tone, awaiting her verbal slaughter for taking her into the air with him. "Mmmm."

She walked up to him and put her arms around him. "Thanks Oliver, I don't know what would've happened if he hit the ground." She looked up into his eyes, "I don't know how to thank you."

"It's okay. I was thinking you were going to attack me." He joked.

She punched his shoulder. "Oh it crossed my mind, but what you did for me...for Jay, sort of equalised it."

"So what now?"

Hermione rubbed her eyes, what now indeed? "Now I drink myself to intoxication and hope some poor fool will take me home for the night." She had to take her mind off Jayden, he was in good hands, and she would worry senselessly tomorrow. "Know anyone?"

Oliver smiled, tapping his lip with the forefinger. Should he? Heck was he going to be able to deal? Well it would put his plan into action. "Well, I don't know of anyone in particular but you're willing to stay with me until I remember someone…"

Hermione looked up at him through thick lashes; stay with the man she was trying to avoid? Was she a masochist? "Oh I don't think so Wood. I know about your reputation!"

"Well then you know that if I choose I can be a complete gentleman."

"If you choose," she raised her brow. "You know if I spend even a night with you it'd be a scandal and sully my reputation."

"Nonsense, we Scottish highlanders can be awfully chivalrous." He walked over to her and put his arms about her waist. "You're coming home with me!" He halted her protests. "Wouldn't you rather stay with someone you know than in a hotel by yourself?"

"No." Not with you at least. Well that wasn't a complete lie.

He ignored her. "And besides, imagine Maggie's face when she finds out…"

"I don't think so Oliver." She remained persistent, adding sweetly. "Wouldn't it be awkward when your girlfriends come around to see another woman in your home?"

He chose to ignore her jab and well as her plural on girlfriends. "Well, until you find somewhere then. I don't think you'll find accommodation in the next few hours… and my home is just a 'pop' away," he didn't like the fact he had to beg this woman; usually _they_ begged _him_ dammit. He decided his plan of action needed a adjusting.

"Mm..." she hesitated; there was no way she was going to get around this unless she jabbed him in the balls and made a run for it…if he'd been another type of man she'd have taken it, but with his reputation...oh and when the press heard... she wasn't sure she could resist him. Not sure she wanted to. Die Dom.

"Chicken." He sighed releasing her.

She shut her eyes; she hated being called a chicken. "We have been through this!"

"Obviously you are; I won't hurt you Hermione." He smirked, "sleep with you maybe but never hurt." He forgot to add intentionally.

"I beg your pardon?" she scoffed. "Sleep? Ha, fat chance."

Instead of looking insulted, he seemed amused. "What about a slim one?"

"None," though she couldn't help but smile at his audacity. If this was the persistent type of man her mother said women liked, she must've been out off her rocker.

"Ye have so little faith," he sighed. "But okay, we'll refrain from the physical for the time being. But you need a place to stay and I need some company in Ireland since I can't apparate to my home in London, so whad'ya say?"

The devil and angel were playing havoc on her shoulders: whatever her decision she knew she wouldn't fall for this man. At least not on purpose. And she knew Dom would be proud of her. And quite frankly, screw what the press said. They wouldn't know! So she sighed and nodded, ignoring Oliver's triumphant smirk. "Oh can this day get any worse!"

The umbrella spell protecting them from the rain dissipated.

Clearly it could.

* * *

SS


	5. Mamma Mia!

_ceis'd mo chridhe_ - My heart will always belong to you.

_Galoot_- Fool

* * *

**The Playboy's Pursuit**

CHAPTER 5

"_Mothers are all slightly insane"_

– _J. D. Salinger_

* * *

They had apparated to his cabin a moment later, drenched with water after the protection spell had faded, with cursed mutterings on both accounts. Hermione who had promised Bobby treatment stopped to admire Oliver's home before scolding him for leaving Bobby.

"Oliver! I have to- oh! Well this _is_ nice, you have satin curtains and oh, aren't they nice rugs! Hmm, that's not the point! We have to get back so I can check up on Bobby!"

Muttering about women, Oliver had apparated them back to Puddlemere's quarters, only to see Bobby at the mercy of the healer they employed. With an apologetic glance at Bobby, Oliver grabbed Hermione and apparated them back to his cabin.

"We should've checked up on him you know!" Hermione snapped: what a nerve to just pop her wherever he went! And realizing her was still drenched muttered a curse and sent a drying spell at them both.

"Ah what's the point in wondering?" he muttered and followed Hermione up the two stairs to the second level. It opened up into a lounge room with plush dark couches and mahogany tables and furniture. A large flat screen was stuck up on the wall, and she cast a curious glance at Oliver.

"Well what do you expect me to do all day? Fiddle with my wand?"

She chose to ignore that. Her eyes lit up as she approached a huge wall accommodated with floor to ceiling bookcases, filled with a range of books. "I thought you'd like that, but I think only these will tickle your fancy." He had pointed to one bookcase. "The rest is Quidditch stuff."

"Big surprise." She smirked and turned to Oliver. "Look Oliver, I insist that I find somewhere else to stay! I-"

"No. And besides it wouldn't be the right thing to do."

Hermione heaved an aggravated sigh. "For charitably purposes? I don't need you to be charitable; I need you to be reasonable! I appreciate you offer but-"

"Well it's settled."

"No it's not…Oliver are you listening to me?"

"No."

_Liar,_ he must be if he answered the question. There must be some reason he was being generous, perhaps she was to be his new conquest? She gritted her teeth, let him try. He had women before; she'd occasionally flicked through a gossip magazine at Lavender's home and saw him with countless numbers of women: all the same mind you. Tall, leggy, with long straight blonde hair, blue eyes, pouty lips, with absolutely no shape whatsoever. It was the common stereotype of course, but they were the women he went for.

Not some curvaceous, average height, brunette, with brown eyes, with the propensity to take a jab at her own self-esteem and who had been told a hacksaw was needed to split her legs apart. She scowled at the thought. Oh and then there was Krum, who at first had lavished attention on her, ever acting like the perfect gentleman who didn't want to rush her into things she was not ready for.

Of course, once they had become intimate his personality changed: he wanted her at home or with him whenever she went out. He was overly protective, possessive, though not physically abusive, unless one included attacking her self-esteem "You are too wide in the bottom, and too lumpy in the legs; do something with yourself. How do you expect me to be with you when you look like that?" He had said many a time and she hadn't at first taken it too seriously, but time after time of hearing the verbal abuse, it had started to sink in, and soon enough, she'd believed him.

Too late of course, his interest had waned and he'd cheated. When she had gotten the letter from an anonymous source which simply gave her an address, she'd been hesitant but her curiosity had prevailed and she had followed the address to find later Krum leaving with two women on either arm. She hadn't believed it at first, but then arrived more letters with the same conclusion, and she couldn't run from it anymore. And then the Press had found out.

She had kept it in and it ate at her inside. She hated Krum and she hated herself for staying with him. She worked longer hours and avoided men; pouring herself into her career and staying out of the spotlight, endeavouring never again to attach herself to attractive men in the public eye who had bad reputations.

She was interrupted with a high wail. "Oliver! Is that you dear?" A lady clothed in a floral dress emerged from the corridor leading to the bedrooms holding her chest. "Thank heavens, some madman just popped in asking for his "Carmella's Cinnamon Carpet Cleaner! I had no-" she stopped to stare at Hermione. "Oh hello dear! Oliver you didn't tell me we were expecting company."

"I picked her up from the street. She has the afternoon shift." Hermione gritted her teeth and Oliver smirked. "Hermione this is Patty, my maternal aunt, she sometimes cleans up the place when I'm gone, Aunt Patricia: Hermione."

Hermione went to shake Patricia's hand but was captured instead by a tight hug. Hermione sent Oliver a look, he just smirked and shrugged. "How you do?"

"Oh, very well dear! I didn't know Oliver had a new girlfriend-"

Oliver sighed and rolled his eyes, "She's not my girlfriend Patty…" but he was interrupted by Hermione.

"No, you see after our little unprotected afternoon interlude a few weeks back…well, let's just say he's paying the price." She said this of course, with the hopes of never seeing the woman again. In hind sight, her self-depreciating revenge tactic was not the smartest idea.

"Oliver! Is this true!"

Oliver shot Hermione an aggravated look, well if you want to play this game. "Sure, she's just one of many."

But she didn't listen to him, instead pulling Hermione towards her and whispered in her ear, "Between you and me, I thought he was a homosexual... not that there's anything wrong with that, the gay thing, it's just well, there's only Oliver and-"

Oliver pulled Hermione from her grasp, who didn't know whether to be amused or shocked, and sent his aunt a warning look. "Oh you both must be cold and hungry! Come, I have tea ready and a fire burning." And with that and a last smile at Hermione, she scurried away toward the kitchen.

Hermione and Oliver slowly followed suit, shaking his head in disbelief. "I bet she was sharing her thoughts on my sexuality. _Between you and me, I thought he was a homosexual_," he mimicked her. "Yeah between you, her and half of the U.K. just ignore her. She thinks because I haven't had a serious relationship with a woman in a while that I'm gay…"

Hermione grinned mischievously. "Oh don't worry, I doubt that."

"Oh?" he raised his brows in amusement.

"I saw you naked remember?"

* * *

Thankfully Oliver had gotten his Aunt away before the storm exacerbated and she'd have to stay there for the night; his aunt was a Squib so had to get around the Muggle way.

"You know this is going to be awful," Oliver sighed and laid back on his soft leather couch.

"Why?" Hermione popped a nut into her mouth. "I thought she was lovely considering she thought I was a prostitute."

Oliver choked, "you say that now, but any bet she's called up my mother who will no doubt contact me within the next five minutes or worse...drop in." He rubbed at his eyes, and then scowled at her. "You probably shouldn't have said you were pregnant." He took a swig.

Hermione didn't even blush, "You started it by imply I was a Lady of the Night, or in this case Afternoon. You know," she started and leaned across the coffee table to grab his attention, "I noticed your aunt said something about a cabin rental place down the road, if I'm going to be too much for you to handle..."

He scoffed, "fat chance lass, unless of course you want to dip your toe into the drug trade; that's their hang out. They also have prostitution as a side business," He couldn't help but adding as he leaned toward her across the table so their faces were but inches apart, "but of course you could stay here if you wanted some of that business: I wouldn't pay you, but you'd be free of contract."

Before she could hex him a figure emerged from the fireplace, covered in soot.

"Lovely entrance, unwanted, but dignified all the same." Oliver scowled as Hermione hastily fell back away from the couch.

Bobby raised a brow, Hermione hadn't moved away from Oliver fast enough, and he wondered what he had interrupted. Murder, judging by the look on Hermione's face. "I'll get straight to it," he took a deep breath, "your Mother's on her way here!"

Oliver's face blanched, oh dear god.

"Darling!"

Oliver winced from the high pitched voice of his exaggerated mother, and wanted to smack the smugness off Bobby's face. "Hello mother."

A petite woman with a blonde perm, wearing a thick strand of pearls around her neck and a floral dress, which could easily be mistaken for a curtain, floundered from the fireplace and hurried over to her bemused son. "Oh come now dear! Give your mother a hug! Heaven knows it's been a while since I've seen you last. Ooh!" she released Oliver and shot Bobby a glare. "It was supposed to be a surprise pop in, Bobby dear. I do know how Oliver enjoys it when I pop in, he just about falls over in excitement when he sees me. How is your mother, I forgot to ask. Still not pursuing a career in singing is she?"

"N-no Mrs Wood," Bobby barely managed to get out; half suffocated by Mrs Woods floral perfume and the look on Oliver's face. "Instead she's found a love for pottery."

She smiled, "Thank heavens! Last time I heard her she sounded like a demented cuckoo clock you'd buy from Target."

Bobby raised a brow at his friend who shrugged. This mother thought she was the epitome of human evolution and existence; best the commoners get used to it. "So mother," he hurried over to her, and shut the draw she was opening: It would shock her to see the contents. "What-"

She cut him off. "Your dear Aunt told me some very interesting news." She smacked him with her bag. "You impregnated a Streetwalker? Oh whatever will I tell the Ladies club down at the church? They threw out Mildred Wilson for planting red tulips instead of roses, and Janice Jefferson for putting tarragon in her pumpkin soup! This, I shall be ruined!"

"Merlin save me," He looked at Bobby for help, then at Hermione who had somehow remained hidden through the whole escapade. He had to change the subject. "How's dad doing?"

She clucked her tongue at him, "Your father. Humph. If I ripped off all my clothes and pole danced on the bedpost, he still wouldn't notice me." Oliver tried to block his ears; Bobby simply sat back against the couch and lazily slung his arm over the side; Hermione looked on, mortified. She turned to see Hermione and almost fainted.

Hermione felt some sympathy for the woman, after all she was related to Oliver, and decided to put her mind at ease, "Mrs Wood, I am Hermione Granger and I assure you, despite what your charming son told your sister, I am not a prostitute."

Marjorie's eyes lit up as if she were witnessing the second coming and gave a hesitant chuckle, "Oh of course you aren't dear, not that there is anything wrong with the escort occupation, I am after all quite an accommodating woman.."

"Mother," Oliver called, exhausted. And she'd been here but 3 minutes.…"

She continued on, "Between you me and the wallpaper dear, I thought he was homosexual. His only companion these days is Bobby, unless one is to believe the rubbish in the papers-"

Bobby hastily stood and shook Mrs Wood's hand, "Well mum, I'd best be off. I have to go and, um, shave my legs..." wait wrong excuse, "I mean, I have an appointment with the hairdressers..." perhaps he should just shut up." Ah hell, I'm just going to go; before the floo is disconnected. I'll catch up with you guys later." He stalked over to the fireplace, his face red and flooed off.

"Yes we should all be careful, later on tonight it will start snowing."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "My mother thinks she's a clairvoyant. Truth is we have this sheep at home which predicts things…don't ask." Missy the sheep that was passed down to Oliver's father- Mrs Wood was less than pleased: one animal was enough in her household- who had a long bout of luck that had earned his father many earnings at the gambling table. He would place a photo, a jersey or some other object in front of the sheep and whichever she responded to, he would chose as his bet. And so far she hadn't been wrong.

"Oh hush Oliver, why is it you and your father always side with the female that can't talk rather than the one that can?" she sighed and dusted his pillow.

Oliver walked to his mother and planted a kiss on her cheek, "You answered your own question. So perhaps you should head off too..."

She sent him a scolding look and took Hermione's arm. "Nonsense, I am going to cook you both dinner before I head off. And don't think I have not forgotten that you joked about this sweet girl's occupation!"

Oliver decided that instead of finding this situation incredibly inconvenient, he would try to think of it as amusing. Mrs Wood removed a package from her bag and sent a spell its way. It enlarged to reveal a whole wad of shopping bags with groceries insides. "I always like to be prepared, Hermione dear; one never knows when they'll be popping in to their son's home and cooking a feast!"

Hermione's brow furrowed at all of the bags. "That's a lovely sentient Mrs Wood; but isn't that too much food."

Mrs Wood smiled and clucked, "Now dear, we want people to know that we can afford a decent meal. And besides, you're eating for two."

Oh God, she had forgotten about that. She turned to Oliver who was still picking at an apple in the bag and shot an eyebrow at her. Sending her a you-started-it-you-finish-it look. "Damn you," she muttered.

"What was that dear?" Oliver asked and bit into the fruit.

If she could Hermione would've poked that smug look off his face with a fork. "I said, that's true."

Mrs Wood, unaware of the tension between the two simply asked: "You've yet to tell me what you do Hermione, what are you domestic capabilities?" she charmed a knife to cut up some vegetables.

"Well I'm head medi-witch at the paediatric ward at St Mungo's, though I have been trained as an Auror too. Domestically, my friend Ginny claims, I am a Goddess." She shuddered. "My mother was a stickler for decorum and had sent me to etiquette school and cooking classes- not to mention had taught me many a thing about sewing and gardening; probably why I dislike it all now."

"Excellent dear, it's so hard to find capable women!" Marjorie smiled at Hermione and Oliver.

"She's a rose among thorns," Oliver leaned over and kissed Hermione on the top of her head; moving quickly before she could gouge out his eyes with her nails.

"Well I must say, I was quite surprised this afternoon when your aunt popped in; and then broke the news! Your father took an hour to revive me with the smelling salts. I suppose you two will be married before the baby is born. We don't want a repeat if last time," she ended quietly so Oliver wouldn't hear.

Rain and wind whipped the window harshly, Hermione closed her eyes and wished she was out there; maybe she could suffocate herself in the oncoming snow? A repeat of last time? It didn't help Oliver had to open his mouth. "We're undecided. Hermione doesn't want to, probably doesn't even know who the father is."

If looks could kill…but then she did deserve it: she was being unbelievably infuriating after he had offered her accommodation: now it would probably turn into a wedding. She'd have to break up with him: her plan had backfired. "Well I wouldn't want you to feel pressured to marry me just because I am pregnant!" she started to tear up. "Like I don't feel bad enough having falling pregnant and now you're suggesting I sleep around?"

His mother glared at him_. Damn her,_ Oliver fumed his dark eyes flashing, _why was she being so difficult?_ All he did was offer, well okay, force her into staying with him for a few weeks and she was throwing a hissy-fit! He was being nice for shit's sake! If he had known it would lead to a fake relationship with a child involved: not to mention his mother! Merlin, now there was no way getting out of it. Gritting his teeth he walked over to Hermione and wrapped his arms around her shoulders.

If it had been in different circumstances, he wouldn't have minded the close contact: she stirred up a feeling in him- one he was unaccustomed to. His initial idea of flirting with her was going to turn into a full blown affair when he was done, and he'd be damned if she didn't enjoy it. But now, to deal with his mother. "I'm _sorry_," his eye twitched at the foreign word, "I didn't mean it. It's just with all this pressure and the weather and the _bairn, _I've been acting like a _galoot_…but no matter what _ceis'd mo chridhe_" His hold on her shoulders tightened, _don't say anything!_

_Ceis'd mo chridhe _indeed! Oh but the thought was nice. "I know, but I feel the same way; and I'm not snapping at you…"

Oliver's mother piped in, "_Maybe bairn_?"

"Yep, missed her period and all: now she's having all these tantrums she blames on hormones…"

"I've missed a few months sometimes…" Hermione lied and glared at Oliver.

"Well you're a doctor aren't you? Shouldn't you know if you're pregnant or not…"

"Well, I should…but, well, I guess I like the element of surprise," she scoffed, she was such a terrible actress. "Besides, I may be a doctor but I don't really use the...um…stuff."

"Well that is strange!" Marjorie smiled up at the two. "Well let's hope so shall we? I've told Oliver he needs to settle down and you look suitable for him."

Oliver grabbed a bottle of wine sat next to Hermione, squeezing her hand, just a little too tightly. "We'll see."

A few minutes of silence rolled by; Mrs Wood was happily cutting potatoes, stirring the contents in her pot and occasionally checking her teeth on her spoon, Hermione found a speck on counter very interesting and Oliver was attentively looking at his would-be wife.

Turning her back to them, she pulled out a little bottle from her purse and tipped some of its contents into the teapot. Marjorie smiled in self-satisfaction; they would be asleep for at least an hour, by that time, she would be able to put their breakfast in the room without any difficulties. The storm ragging outside broke them out of their trance, the rain pounding onto the window. "I told you Oliver dear it would come today."

"No, Missy did mother," he rolled his eyes and took a huge swig at his wine.

"Oh hush, and slow down on the wine, Oliver. You don't want to end up like your uncle Jepherson." She turned to Hermione and winced. "Drunk himself to sleep one night and ended up in Portugal in the back of a cart full of fish eggs and catfish. He's my husband's brother; _my_ family wouldn't produce such animals. I try so desperately not to associate with them; but they are family...look why don't you show Hermione where she's going to be staying; I noticed she hasn't settled in yet. I'll bring you over some refreshments." And once they were in she'd lock the door.

Oliver nodded in agreement and stood taking the wine bottle with him, "Best idea you've had all day. Come on _gaol mo chridhe." _Taking her hand he manoeuvred her toward the guest room, "now we plan our escape."

"Oh she's not that bad Oliver, actually I find her amusing," very similar to her own mother actually, "how many rooms does this cabin have?"

He dragged her down a corridor and scoffed, "She's much worse than bad; terrible actually. Descendent of Hitler. Here we are, guest room- though you could just stay with me in my room."

"You don't know how unappealing that is," she sent a sweet smile his way. "This is a guest room? It's got its own bathroom and lounge! I bet if I open one of the cupboards there'll be a kitchen hidden away."

"Kitchen? No don't be silly. But open that door in the bathroom and you'll find a sauna."

Dragging Hermione toward one of the sofas, he sat her down. Hermione grabbed the bottle of wine and she took a huge swig from the bottle.

"Be careful _mo chridhe_," Oliver mocked, yawning. "Wouldn't want to hurt the baby."

"You started that; not me!"

"Perhaps, but you did encourage it."

Hermione groaned and lay back on the couch, there was no point in arguing with him so she took another swig from the bottle. _Drown away your anger_, the twins had always said. _They were probably drunk when they told her that,_ she assumed.

Oliver lay back on his couch, though highly amused at the situation he couldn't help revelling in the fact that by pretending to be in a relationship, it would help his little quest to loosen up the doctor. He groaned, but it had all been instigated by his mother!

"What's wrong?" Hermione said.

Where to start. "Well now that my mother thinks you're pregnant, you'll never be able to leave her sight."

"Maybe tomorrow I'll pretend to do a test and tell her I'm not."

"Even so, she still wouldn't let you out of her sight until you were."

Hermione laughed and took another mouthful of wine. She never drank, and now she was guzzling down a whole bottle, it would probably give her system a huge shock; she hiccupped.

"Here give me that bottle, what will I tell my mother tomorrow when my supposedly drunk and pregnant girlfriend wakes up groggy." Oliver grabbed the bottle off her.

"That I'm drunk with love for you?" she smirked. But sobered when she was Oliver's face. "Oh I'm kidding,_ mo chridhe,_" she mocked.

Oliver was just glad it was a small bottle of wine. "Give me that." He snatched the bottle from her hands and she fell on top of him. "Oomph, Hermione!"

"Oh like you've never had a girl on top of you before! Sorry, but you did pull it from me!" she found she couldn't get up and lay across him like a lump. Her arms were tingling.

"Really?" he asked genuinely surprised and trying not to look at her exposed back, he noted the way it dipped just before the protrusion of her bottom. How he'd like to run his hand along it…What a loser, she wasn't doing anything and he was going mad; he took another swig of the bottle.

"Really! You should slow down w-with the drink Oliver." She chided, slightly tipsy herself. _Three gulps and you're already off your rocker_, he'd notice soon enough that she was an amateur alcoholic.

He placed his hand behind his head, and rested the bottle on her back. He had to get her off soon. "Good Lord, lie_ still_ Hermione."

"You have puuuurdddyyyyy eyes."

"You're tipsy." He rested the bottle on the table. She fidgeted in his arms and he let her sit up for a while. "And you have a nice ass."

"Stop talking all flibbertigibbet," she put a finger to Oliver's lips.

Oliver took out with a sobering serum that was in a draw beside him, since he had no wand for a charm. He stocked up on a lot of these; they would still leave her a little tipsy but sane enough to hold a conversation and keep her from falling off couches. He gave it to her, and waited for it to kick in. "Better?"

"I'm sorry, I can't hold alcohol, at all," she started to rub her eyes before noticing she was straddling Oliver. Oh dear. "I'm really sorry." She got up and headed toward the door. "Should we see what your mother's up to?"

She was still feeling groggy so didn't hear Mrs Wood's 'singing' as she approached the door. It slammed open and Oliver quickly grabbed Hermione and pulled her away from the door: she fell against him hard.

Marjorie smiled, and shut the door quickly. "Oh well isn't this nice. I've brought you some refreshments; dinner is a few hours away." It was finished, but by the time they woke up it'd be a few hours. Making sure she was blocking the exit, Mrs Wood placed the drinks on one of the tables against the wall and handed them one each. "Well, drink up! It's a lovely herbal tea, one of my favourites."

Hermione took a cup just to be polite, though didn't feel like any more liquids. Oliver was cautious about the drink, and glared at his mother with suspicion. The drink didn't seem contaminated, but his mother was a sly one. Legend had it, she had spiked his father's tea with a love potion before they were married. His father seemed too sane otherwise to have wedded his mother. Marjorie's just sent him a cheerful smile. "Oh come and drink it, I'm sure you're thirsty."

Hermione had already taken a sip before Oliver could stop her; his mother had done something to the drink, he could see it in her eyes. But he decided to take the plunge and took a small sip but didn't swallow it.

"Oh for heaven's sake Oliver, stop acting like a child and swallow it."

He did and the grin on Mrs Wood's face could not have been greater. "Well I'm off, you two dears do whatever it is you do, just close the curtains! It's roast tonight!"

And before Oliver could catch the door, it shut with a thud. "Damn it."

Hermione walked over toward the bed and sat on it, casually sipping the tea. "Why didn't you just drink it? It's quite nice actually."

"Oh Lord, why did you drink it all!" the rushed over to her and shook her shoulders.

"Because I was thirsty!" she rolled her eyes as Oliver checked them. "Bloodshot are they? Pupils dilated?"

He almost believed that he was over-reacting. Hermione seemed fine and he felt no effects. "My mother has a tendency to put things into drinks to get what she wants: at least my father's..." deciding it was safe he drank a bit more. "Give me your glass."

She did. Usually afterward, the powder she put in would dissolve at the bottom of the glass and it would turn pink. He was just about to explain it to Hermione when he noticed a pinkish hue at the glasses base. "Oh shit Hermione!"

But it was too late, she was already fast asleep. He cursed his mother's sleeping powder and quickly walked over toward the couch before he too became unconscious.

* * *

Mrs Wood entered the cabin's kitchen with a cheerful smile to make breakfast for the next day. So Oliver did have some female company! And a doctor who could knit! The stars were in her favour this month.

Oh she wasn't stupid, she knew Hermione wasn't pregnant and she knew instantly they weren't an item: but it wouldn't hurt to try. There must've been something special about Hermione, for Oliver never brought a girl to his cabin: Marjorie just hoped he wasn't playing some game with her.

Hermione wasn't really the type he went for, though she did have very suitable qualities, she was an intellectual woman and was very pretty too! Her dark looks almost rivalled Oliver's own, she was average height and had a full figure to bear Marjorie many grandchildren and she would be able to manage a household too; all Mrs Wood needed to do was to give them an added push.

She'd give them about ten minutes and by that time they should both be fast asleep and she'd have breakfast ready for tomorrow. She'd charm the food to last long enough and be on her way home. They'd be on their own until she came back in a few weeks.

* * *

Half an hour had past, so she quietly crept into the bedroom: carrying their breakfast for the next day. Hermione lay asleep on the bed and Oliver had crashed on the floor. She smiled quietly to herself, considering that perhaps what she had done was cruel: oh well they had a lifetime to avenge her.

She lit a fire in Oliver's fireplace and left the room; she was quite surprised to have not seen one stir or move, so she read the back of the bottle. Half a teaspoon equals one hour of sleep: she had put in 3 tablespoons; whoops. She was used to the pills anyway.

Grabbing the roast she had cooked, she flooed off home to feed her husband; with just enough time to see the first flakes of snow beginning to fall.

* * *

Hermione woke groggily, her head was spinning and she found it difficult to sit up. "Ouch!"

"How you feeling?" Oliver mumbled from the floor, his hair tousled and his expression annoyed.

"Crap." She replied, surprised at the huskiness of her voice and looked over at the tray. "Is this for the next week?" Oliver shrugged his shoulders. "Your mother sure does cook a lot."

"Probably thinks you're eating for two remember," he took a jar off the tray and handed it to her.

"Oh Lord, I forgot about that, the baby thing I mean." Sighing she rose from bed and scurried over to the table Oliver set the food down. She was only just aware of the huge jumper that fell off her shoulder and stopped a few inches above her knee. She didn't bother feeling embarrassed; she didn't want to think how it came to be on her, "why are we eating eggs? Wasn't your mother cooking a roast?"

Oliver scowled, "Yes."

"Ooh yum, fried tomatoes." She dug her fork into one and smiled full mouth. She didn't seem at all perturbed.

"You sure you're not expecting?" he asked and looked out the window. Damn his mother.

She noticed his frown, "what's wrong?"

"It's morning Hermione."

"What?" she flicked a glance to the window. How could she have slept all through the night, she'd just thought to rest her eyes for a minute...

"Ah I knew she drugged us; I told you she was off her rocker," he headed to the door. He tried to turn the knob but it was locked, "Son of a b-." he shook it, but it still didn't budge. "Mother!"

"Oliver what's wrong?" Hermione walked towards him.

"The doors locked. MUM!"

"Use your wand."

"I don't have it with me," he turned to her.

"Oh."

"Mother!" Oliver called out a few hours later. "Damn you woman!"

Hermione went over to the table to fill up her glass: she was famished and surely Marjorie was still here. "You think she'll open up the door if you talk like that to her?"

"I bet she's not even here,' Oliver muttered and leant against the door. "I can't smell that bloody perfume she wears; and trust me, you can get a whiff of that about 100 feet away. It's a good detection device, helped me escape her wrath a couple of times."

"Mrs Wood!" Harried, Hermione yelled and ran up against the door. There was no answer; silence greeted her on the other side. Her she glared at Oliver who sent her an I-told-you-so look.

He gave up and went to the table. "There's no point Hermione, we have to find our own way out." Oliver said calmly and shoved some eggs and bacon into his mouth. Seeing the positive side, he figured this was damned good progress for his quest.

Hermione turned on him and pointed a finger at his chest. "This is all your fault! She's taken our wands, and has complete control over the operations of the door!" she slumped into a seat next to Oliver and picked up a fork, deciding to stuff her face with her sorrows. She looked up at Oliver and then slammed her hands on the table. "Not to mention she's under the impression that I'm with child, and that I'm your detrimentally unstable girlfriend! Now I'm stuck here with you for Merlin knows how long; it's bad enough you're an arrogant, big-headed despot and Ahh!" she groaned.

He didn't even look up. "Hormones Hermione? Trust me, after this little charade, I have no doubt she knows about our little masquerade. She's probably punishing us."

That didn't help. "Who in the world designed this place? Who puts locks on the outside of doors?"

Oliver started to laugh. He didn't know why and he couldn't stop himself. He stared at Hermione who found nothing amusing in the situation and burst out laughing even more. "I designed it: except for the doors: my mother and aunt picked them."

Hermione couldn't keep a straight face anymore and chuckled too. Her day could get worse, but it was rather interesting

* * *

SS


	6. A Wicked Proposition

**The Playboy's Pursuit**

CHAPTER 6:

_A Wicked Proposition_

* * *

A day later and Oliver was feeling the strain.

The object of his unease lay on the bed, a pillow over her head cringing at the cracks of lightning outside. She was wearing one of his old shirts which covered her to mid-thigh- _barely _he thought annoyed, remembering those silky legs rubbing against him during the night…he rubbed his face, _shit_.

He forced himself to think about Quidditch and the Christmas Cup, which was four weeks away. The team had only begun proper training a month ago and this week with Jayden was supposed to be the team's break from the vigorous training their coach put them through. Oliver had planned to train anyway, but the brunette he was glaring at had halted his plans; at her memory, he groaned again, shifting on his seat.

"Bloody mother…"

"What was that?" Hermione called, her voice muffled from the pillow.

"Pardon?" he asked and threw a pillow at her, "If you want to make out with something, try me and not the manchester."

"That's not as tempting as you think." She rose on her elbows and raised her brow.

Oliver's brow quirked up, as did his lip. Was that a blush staining her pretty little face? "I'm having a hard time believing that."

"Ugh." Hermione mumbled and fell back onto the bed, only to hit her head on the headboard. "Ouch."

In the last few hours that had passed, Hermione had time to reflect over the incident at the field and couldn't help but feel awful. Poor Jayden, Hermione sighed. She had to get back and see how he was faring; she couldn't help feeling guilty that she wasn't with him when he needed her most.

"I'm sure he's in good hands," Oliver had said when she lay moping about the boy, just after they awoken Marjorie's little prank this morning. "There's nothing you can do from here Hermione; and trying to get back to London isn't going to help the kid when half your body will be in the Atlantic and the other in Portugal."

"I know, but I still can't help the feeling of guilt…"

"Well then don't help it," he had calmly said.

"You're not helping you know…"

She knew he was right, but she wasn't planning to tell him that. She hadn't been at work for almost five days and she was going mad.

Oliver on the other hand was having a difficult time staying in such close proximities with the woman lying on his bed; the thought was giving him bad ideas. He remembered last night. She had been in a deep sleep, a raging storm was playing havoc outside and she had been twisting and turning in bed, crying out as lightning struck, tears unconsciously streaming down her face…

Thunder brought him out of his trance; Hermione recoiled. "I hate thunder storms…"

"You slept right through one last night."

"Oh really?" a slight smile marred her face. "Lucky or I might've jumped you." At the quirk of Oliver's brown, she blushed and stuttered, "I mean I might've jumped _on_ you…out of fright..i don't like storms at night."

He decided to play it cool which was going at odds with the Little Fella down below; else he'd have jumped on _her. _"Sweetheart you can jump me or on me whenever you want…"

_It'd been early morning when they'd groggily woken up. They'd been talking about the steps needed to eliminate his mother …he'd been flirting mercilessly and she'd been annoyed and amused. They'd eaten the roast his mother had left, which magically replenished itself soon after and confirmed that his mother was not going to release them any time soon. Theyd both showered, and_ _forgetting she hadn't anything to wear, Hermione walked out of the ensuite wearing a towel and found one of his shirts to wear. "Turn around Wood." He had and had seen her reflection in the window. "No your other around."_

_He had raised a brow, "Your enunciation is superb." But he'd turned anyway, respecting her modesty._

_She had changed and he had felt her movements; heard when she slipped off the towel, she'd been naked in all her glory, before putting on the shirt._

"_I suppose you'll want underwear." He added with a smirk. _

_She smirked back. "Nope, washed and dried my others."_

_They'd talked for a while and he'd ignited the fireplace. It had been only moments later when her eyes closed and she'd fallen asleep on the couch. He hadn't wanted her to be uncomfortable so he'd picked her up and carried her to the bed._

_After covering her, he sat on the bed and stared. The fireplace glowed, gilding her face so he could see the faint trickle of freckles covering her nose. He studied the soft curve of her cheek and the fullness of her lips; she looked so young, so innocent. The thunder outside boomed breaking his train of thought._

_He left her side and went to sit on the chair by the fire; if he'd stayed any longer he'd have brought his hand to her face, tracing every edge and curve. The force of how much he was fascinated by this woman disturbed him. He laid back in the armchair and closed his eyes, contemplating his plan of action._

_Though, only a moment later, the ferocity of the storm outside had opened them up again. The thunder rolled, and lightning cracked; the wind was so strong he could hear it beat and whip at his window._

_"Harry no!" Hermione shrieked in her dream, sitting bolt upright, before she calmly lay back down._

_Oliver had risen, and walked toward the window to study the storm. He hadn't seen Hermione rise from the bed, eyes closed in a zombie-like state. He had however heard her gasp and turned to see her only a foot from the fire._

_He'd run toward her and had grabbed at her waist, lifting her from the blazing flames. She had cried against him, subconsciously grabbing at his shoulders, holding tightly. Oliver felt the armchair against his knee and sat down bringing her with him._

_She hadn't let go, her cheek resting against his chest as tears wracked her body, mumbling 'no' and 'don't' frequently. Oliver had stared down and saw her eyes tightly shut, the tears falling down freely: she was still in a deep sleep, battling her own war._

_Watching her, he felt an ache in his chest. What she and her friends had gone through to ensure safety in their world; the strength it took to go on... The tears gathered in her eyes, before they started to fall again; she let out a gut wrenching sob, "NO!"_

_His gut clenched. He couldn't take it anymore; the drug his mother poisoned them with had still been in effect and she'd be trapped in her dream all night. He tried to shake her, had called her name, but it hadn't worked. So he'd done something he probably shouldn't have but wanted to. Gently, he wiped away the tears from her eyes and tilted her face, gently setting his lips to hers._

_She'd felt a sensation ripple through her body, and thought it the _Cruciatus _curse, but then had become aware of warm lips pressing against her own. She was struck still in the darkness she'd been engulfed in was so horrendously real, even the lightning couldn't break her out of her trance; but the unexpected distraction did: she'd pulled away to catch her breath._

_Masculine fingers traced over her lips and pulled them back to his own. The sensation warmed her body and she felt herself pull away from her nightmare; she was not alone in her dream._

_She'd reached out at the solid figure protecting her and her lips softened, she melted into the kiss. The tip of his tongue had carefully caressed her own as he took what she offered him._

_Oliver groaned and ran a hand along the length of her smooth thigh. She'd smelled of strawberries and cream, a mix of sweetness and temptation... He pulled away as she pressed her breast toward his chest, damn it she was unconscious! She made herself comfortable against his chest and burrowed in. He bit at his lip. "Merlin, please sit still." He'd hoarsely whispered._

_Oliver carefully lifted her and carried her yet again to the bed. Hermione had smiled, free of tears and snuggled into the covers whilst he'd laid next to her, careful to put as much distance from her as possible. _

And here he was, sitting on the couch that had started it all, knowing that he could easily get them out of his bedroom…but instead chose to torture himself with the little shrew.

"Oh look it's neither here nor there…" Hermione continued her mutterings, trying to cover up her Freudian slip.

Oliver tried to step back into reality. "Oh what, sorry. I was imagining you jumping me, got a little distracted."

"Ooh!" Hermione scoffed annoyed and rushed to the adjacent bathroom, wondering if Oliver's menacing mother was going to come back and unlock the door, or if she was going to have to break down the window to escape.

Moments later, she stalked back to the bedroom, glanced at Oliver and groaned; he looked like a hero from Harlequin romance novel. _'He lay in his bed like the God Dionysus, promising pleasure and excess as he sprawls shirtless, sheet barely covering his tanned, muscled body; his hooded eyes inviting her into his hot…' _

She couldn't share a room with him tonight, not if he was dressed like that: in almost nothing. She resisted an urge to peek under the sheets to see if he was wearing anything at all: she blushed.

Oliver opened one eye and smirked, "I won't bite you know."

Hermione decided to ignore him and sat against the window sill, studying the storm which had worsened even more during the last few hours. "Your mother isn't coming back is she?"

"I don't think she ever was."

"So how are we supposed to get out?"

"I suppose we don't. We just stay here and procreate; you're lucky I have the time too." He yawned.

Hermione glared at him and slumped on the bed. There was no dealing with the man; she just had to keep her wits about her. She hastily pulled down the shirt to cover as much of her legs as possible. No need to play with fire she supposed. And decided to think about something else…her mind trailed to Jayden.

"You know Hermione; a lot of women in your current situation would be thrilled to be lying in bed with me."

She scoffed, "Do I look desperate to you?"

He turned to his side, his head resting on his hand. "Your animosity is killing me you know."

Hermione smiled sweetly, "Where would you like to be buried?"

His eyes twinkled as he prepared himself to be beaten. "Inside you."

Hermione groaned, hitting him with a pillow before trying to climb out of the bed. Unfortunately for her Oliver recovered and pulled her back down.

She started to wriggle, but one of his legs pinned hers down. She glared up at him, but could not control her racing heartbeat. "Oliver, can you get off me now."

"Sure I could, but I don't want to." He started playing with her shirt, the tips of his fingers barely brushing against her skin and yet still sending tiny shivers along her body.

She tried to push at his bare chest, but he merely chuckled and pinned her hands down. She didn't feel scared or threatened of him; she was however, a little unsure as to what she would do to him. "Wood-"

"Tell me something Hermione," he let go of her hands and played with a curl. "Why don't you flaunt yourself at me? Do you find me repulsive? Am I not your type?" he smiled down at her.

Her breath hitched as his leg shifted in between hers. "Not everyone with the ability to breathe should find you attractive! And if you want me to be totally honest…"

"Mm please do," he pulled a curl.

"You know Oliver," Hermione said annoyed. "The fact that I know you're a chartable person is your one and only redeeming quality! Otherwise you are a chauvinistic prat who thinks all women should fawn and worship him!"

"That's the nicest thing you have said to me." He wiped a pretend tear, sat up and crossed his arms over his chest. "And you think you're just the lass to resist me, eh?"

The bastard had the audacity to look amused, her eyes narrowed. "We are not having this conversation Wood. Now shoo."

He didn't. And something in her exploded.

"I want to think better of you than what the tabloids portray, but you make it difficult! You seem to play into their accusations that you are some misogynistic man-whore, living a love 'em or leave 'em lifestyle! Do you do it to protect yourself? Is it part of some public façade? Do you even have the ability to stay faithful Wood? Or sd you actually like all the fawning and worshipping from all the young girls who don't know better?"

His jaw twitched. What a piece of work! Who was she to talk of identity and facades, when she was creating one herself! The truth of the matter was, he didn't know who he was anymore. Was he the man in the paper; was that how society saw him? He liked women. All kinds of women, and most of them knew that he wasn't interested in anything serious when they started their affairs. Why should that make him a 'man whore' as she called it? And with Maggie, hell, he'd been faithful during their 3 year relationship, he thought it was going to work, he'd given it his all; and then she'd cheated and there went his trust in women. If she thought he, and all men, were in general one track minded chauvinists, then women were money-hungry liars.

He reigned in his temper. If there was anyone hiding their true colours, he would not be the first to crack. "You didn't answer my question Hermione. What makes you think you can resist me?"

She thought she may've gone just a little too far then; she didn't mean to accuse him of being a 'man-whore', it sounded a little too harsh. But she had to do it, she had to get him away before she let herself go and do something she'd surely regret and he would barely remember in a few days.

She somehow managed to push him off her and shot out of bed, staring down at him with her arms folded in a manner that reminded him of McGonagall. "You and that famous ego of yours…is this you or that reputation the tabloids have manufactured?"

Feeling a tad over this game and restless, he slowly moved toward her, until she was backed up against the wall. "And what does this reputation entail?" he hissed.

Hermione moved slowly toward the door, glaring at him the whole way. She knew it was locked, but perhaps she could try breaking it down? "A charming smile, quick hands and some seriously over-used equipment." She was leaning against the door, and was fumbling for the handle.

He laughed at her, a husky throaty chuckle, which would've made a lesser woman panic. "Overly used equipment eh? Don't worry, the warranty hasn't expired yet."

Hermione would've been slightly flustered had she not been so exasperated. The man was an emotional chameleon! One minute he looked like he was about to shake her senseless and the next he was back to his playful self. She couldn't figure him out and that made him very dangerous to her scattered senses.

His dark eyes stared intently at her, sparkling with laughter as she fumbled for the door. Poor little rabbit. He leaned his hand against the edge of the door. "There's nothing to be afraid of lass. You're not my type anyway..." He said with a shrug and started to move away, but the hands that began to push him away, held him in place.

"How typical of you. The last few days you're mercilessly flirting with me and then when I make it clear you're not to have any of it, you make it out like I should be thankful you wasted your time on me. Humph!" she pushed the man away who was having trouble controlling his laughter and went to add a few more logs to the fire. It seemed playful Oliver was going to stay for a while, and she figured now was not the time to push it with her shrewdness. It would do them both good to ease some of the tension that had built up since she'd sat on the bed. "It's not as if you'd have a chance anyway," she hid her smile.

"Is that a challenge?" He noticed her temperament had changed, she was loosening up a bit and he was thankful for it. He did not need to venture down moral lane.

She fumbled with the matches and wondered where her bloody wand was, that way she could hex the man behind her. Oh right, it was in the next room, how convenient. "Think of it what you will, Mr Wood. But I've had enough of men and their petty needs. Oh for Merlin's' sake." She threw the matches into the fireplace.

He was oddly hurt that she thought so little of his prowess but amused nonetheless. He was a proud man, and the little witch was too stuffy for her own good. Let her think what she wanted of him, he was going to teach her a lesson.

"Okay Miss thinks-she-knows-it-all-" at this she turned her head over her shoulder to glare at him. "Since we both have a lot of pride, which is at stake due to our stubbornness, I pose a challenge…you know, to keep us entertained through the weeks."

_This cannot be good, _Hermione thought.

"Since you clearly need a shag but are way too stubborn to admit it-" oh he did try to keep a straight face, he really did, but the expression on her face was priceless. "Don't try to deny it, I know women, and you're one who needs a good time...a few times."

"If I wanted a good time, I'd read Hogwarts, A History," _Or hex off your backside! _She added silently.

"I'm sure we could incorporate that into our routine. And since I'm willing to do anything to prove you wrong, I say we make it a little interesting." His muscles bulged as he folded his arms across his chest, his eyes dark and gleaming, and a twitch at his mouth.

She would, of course, be mad to accept this little wager. But to have the handsome Keeper chasing at her heels for a little while and then reject him. Playing the Player? It had its merits. "Would this be real Oliver or tabloid Oliver talking?"

"Maybe there is no difference?" he shot back.

They were getting back to shaky ground. Time to ease up a little, she smiled. "Is this how you sweep your conquests off their feet? By harassing them into submission?

Oliver rolled his eyes, "Sweetheart, you would be a terrible submissive. I do not harass, I persist. Most women find that endearing."

She stood up and placed her hands on her hips. "I find it annoying. Now make yourself useful and…" she didn't know how he did it, but he was standing behind her, an arm around her waist. "You're not playing fair Oliver."

She felt his lips quirk against her neck, sending hot shivers down her spine as he nuzzled it with his bent head. When had his hands started to move around her stomach? "I never said you had to sleep with me, that'd be your choice. If anything I find your hostility toward me refreshing, if not uncalled for. It just goes to show I am having an effect on you."

His fingers started to unbutton her shirt. She should stop him. "Yes you do; nausea! I am of course, charmed you think me so entertaining, but what would I get out of this?" his cool fingers made contact with her warm skin and her stomach clenched.

His breath was cool at her neck. "No one has to know, it could be our little secret. After all I think it would be fun doing all the chasing for once. So we both win. You need to loosen up and I need a challenge." He wondered if she was going to be like all the others and let him take her there.

But Merlin did she think about it, before realising he was testing her resistance, seeing how far she could go before she snapped again. She uncoiled herself from his hold and he stood up, a smile on his face. "Thank Merlin, for a minute there I thought you were going to let me do just about anything."

She sent him a wicked smile. "You want a challenge? Fine, let's see how perverted we can make this!" she turned to face him, her dark eyes blazing.

Intrigued, he leaned against the wall, arms folded. "I'm all ears."

She nodded, wondering what the hell she was getting into. She was going to figure out who the real Oliver Wood was. "You are too used to getting what you want. I, am awfully good at resisting temptation."

"So you find me tempting do you?" he was looking way too amused.

She ignored him. "I think you're not as big a playboy as you seem. You think I'm judgmental and too uptight. You want me to believe the worst of you. And I want you to know that not all women want to have sex with you. So, you can try to seduce me all you want but you won't get a response out of me!"

This was going to be too easy. "Let the games begin sweetheart." He smiled wickedly. "If I get us out of here, you give me five minutes to do what I want with you."

"Wait, what?" Hermione asked startled. The bastard moved quickly, and she had thought she'd have time to come to grips with what she had done...

A wicked glint shone in his eye. His tone was deep. "I'm getting us out Hermione, which is what you want; and I'm being chivalrous enough to give you a heads up."

"What?" Weren't they supposed to shake hands?

"I have five minutes to do anything I want with you," he smirked as her face blanched. "But I'm a gentleman; I won't do anything you don't want me to."

She'd walked right into this she knew; but why five minutes when she'd given him permission to do whatever whenever? She looked at him suspiciously.

"Fine," he shrugged, "then we'll be stuck in here for a long time."

Oh hell. He could do just about anything with her and judging by the look on his face he was going to enjoy it. And she really wanted to get out; perhaps he had a secret door or something? But the wager was set, whether she liked it or not. Too bad she had opened her mouth. Well if he thought he could win, she'd just have to prove him wrong!

"Ok, you're probably trying to lull me into a false sense of security, but I shall play along," she cleared her throat and listed her restrictions. "No hands." _He can't strangle me that way._ "Clothes on. No wands, no weapons , no vegetables."

Oliver rolled his eyes. But noticed she didn't say tongues that worked for him just fine. "So tomatoes and bananas are still optional?"

"Nothing you can eat!" Oliver's smiled broadened and Hermione's face turned beetroot red. Filthy minded bastard! "So what are you going to do? Call for help? Open up a secret trapdoor?" she snapped.

He ignored her, and grabbing a bludger he kept in his cupboard, he stalked toward the window, aroused, annoyed, amused and planning to show the little witch a lesson. Holding the bludger tightly be brought it over his shoulder and hurled it at the window. It smashed into tiny pieces, letting in a cool breeze.

"Oh I could've done that too damn it!" Hermione drawled.

He jumped through the window, not caring for the tiny shards of glass embedded in his hands and headed toward the front of the house. "Stay in there."

As if she was going to go outside in 2 degree weather half-naked! "You could've at least put on a jacket!" she called at his naked back, for only his jeans and socks covered him.

She heard a curse, a pot plant breaking before yet again another curse, and wondered how he could see outside. She guessed it was about six o'clock but the sky was pitch black.

She assumed he'd take a while reaching the front door of his cabin and reminisced on where she had gone wrong in her relationships. Her reverie turned to the years she had dated Viktor Krum, foolishly staying at his side, when he treated her badly and had likely been cheating on her their whole relationship. They'd been engaged when Hermione had gotten the letter from Anonymous about his affairs; it had taken the tenth one for it to finally sink in before she'd left him.

Then there was Vince who sold her belongings for drugs; and then Billy who was a medi-wizard who had just a little too much fun with the nurses and used her to excel at his own career. Timothy, who was actually quite a darling but had a tendency to dress in her clothes and look far better than she in them. Suffice to say all the men she dated had cheated and robbed her of something. She sighed and sat on the bed waiting for Oliver to return.

Now she was doing it all over again. Playing with fire and doing just what she had promised herself not to do: and all for the sake of showing the egotistical man a lesson. A man, who she suspected had secrets and motives of his own; and who had just slammed opened the bedroom door stalking toward her with a predatory look on his face.

* * *

Hermione intrigued him, beyond doubt. Usually women flung themselves at him, or at least would snuggle up closer to him in bed, but not Hermione: she acted as if he had the black plague. Now he wasn't _totally_ an egotistical chauvinist nor was he _too_ conceited, but he knew the reaction he got from women and the fact this little witch thought she was different….but damn was this exasperating!

He didn't know about her past, or her experiences which left her distrustful toward men, but he'd be damned if he backed away and gave her what she wanted. Let her think he was using her, let her think he'd actually demoralise her by sleeping with her through a wager- well, if he was honest, he did want her, but he had values too: he'd do it only if she wanted it and on her terms.

At that thought he smirked, that was his secret little wager, to see if he could get _her_ to want _him_. She could pretend all she wanted, but he sensed passion under that facade, she could say she wasn't going to be affected by him, but her body would give her away. He'd give her a little at a time, but not enough to satisfy her. She'd be the one chasing him, damn it all, and he'd be ready and willing. He barely dodged a tree branch and cursed at his choice of home away from London.

He was approaching the front door when light rain started to fall. Opening up a secret compartment by fingerprint ID- Muggles! He took out his spare key and opened the door. He was never happier to see his living room than now. The fire was no doubt enchanted to have lasted the past few hours and warmed up the place nicely. His cushy couch looked very inviting, but before he could enjoy a few moments of relaxation, he searched for his wand to open the bedroom door.

"Alohomora," he muttered and the door opened bringing with it an icy gust of wind from the window. The slam of the door had startled Hermione, who'd been shivering near the bed. Clenching his teeth, he stalked toward her and to her amazement: straight passed her, toward the window. With a muttered spell, the window repaired itself.

"If I had known you hadn't feelings toward the window, I'd have smashed it myself," Hermione muttered and hurried out of the room to find warm clothes.

He heard a shriek and hurried off into the lounge room. Two figures emerged from the fireplace and dusted themselves off.

"Hello Oliver."

"What do you want?"

Oliver recognised the two figures as the evil-tart-witch herself Maggie Carrie and the retiring president of Puddlemere Philbert Deverill.

"Hello Oliver!" Said Philbert and then stared at Hermione who was still wearing nothing but his shirt. "Er, sorry…"

Hermione wanted to die of mortification though was thoroughly amused that the Maggot looked ready to blow out of her boobs.

Oliver on the other hand was considering blowing off Philbert's balls if his gaze did not stray away from Hermione's legs. He sent a spell Hermione's way and covered her legs with jeans.

Still embarrassed, she sent Oliver a look of thanks. Remembering her manners, ingrained in her psyche thanks to her diligent mother, she turned to the man. "Hermione Granger. I'm…"

He didn't let her finish, a smirk appearing on his face neither she nor Oliver liked. "Oh yes, I saw you with Wood in that article, but one rarely believes the tabloids. Pleasure to meet you."

"So what's this about?" Oliver piped in.

"Why so grouchy Oliver? Did we interrupt something?" Maggie sneered and was eying Hermione up and down with much animosity.

"Nothing you two should know about." He shot back.

"Humph! Well Wood, so sorry to disturb you, but your duty as Puddlemere Captain should override any affairs you've had planned! We-" she was cut short as she heard Hermione mumble a "bugger off". "Ugh, a Quidditch conference has been called in London and all the teams Captain's and officials have to attend. But we must leave now as the portal is only open for so long as the storm cell iswaned-."

"What?" Hermione shot up.

"Yes Ms Granger?" Maggie sneered.

"So you're telling me that the bloody portal is open for Quidditch players and their snotty officials for an opportunity to get plastered and party; while doctors are stuck here wondering if their patients are alive and surviving in London?" she swore.

Deverill's lips twitched. "Ms Granger, I highly doubt this is an opportunity for players to get "plastered and party" as you so grudgingly put it. And there are others besides medical professionals stranded from their homes."

"Damn," muttered Oliver who went to stand near Hermione.

Maggie noticed the gesture and tried not to get mad: it was what she wanted after all. "No it's not. We must discuss the horrific decision to cancel the Christmas Cup due to the disastrous weather or let the players play with possible disastrous results. This along with the next year's World Cup and planning: it's a very important meeting!"

"Well if there are 'disastrous results' there won't be many doctors in London to help as they'll all be trapped in different parts of the world!" Hermione stormed off to his room and slammed the door.

"Feisty one isn't she?" Deverill smirked.

Oliver chose to ignore his interested tone, and almost was glad Krum was taking his spot. "So who made this decision?"

"Harry Potter the Minister, one of the doctor's dear friends I believe." Maggie smirked and made herself comfortable on the lounge. "Well hurry up Wood. The portals only open for the next hour!"

Of all the times to be called away, it was when he and Hermione were at wits end with each other. And he knew leaving her here alone, with his aunt down the road and his mother on floo was not going to help the situation at all. "Why don't you stay back Maggie and let Hermione take your place? I can't imagine what they need you for."

Maggie laughed. "Oh please Oliver, I don't think this generous gesture of endearment for your _friend_ will help patch up the tension between you two." She whispered in his ear. "She jealous that you'll be spending time with me hmmm?"

His eyes darkened, "Please, she knows you'll be busy screwing other players than to try with me."

Maggie jolted back with a disgusted look on her face. "Just go get ready Wood."

Sickened, Oliver left to go pack, ready for the wrath of Hermione when he entered his room. Though he was disappointed when he only saw her lying on his bed with a pillow on her head.

Before he could speak, Hermione butted in. "Look, I know what you said to Maggie, and thanks for it; but if you were planning to come in here to pack and blabber sweet nothings to me to ease my mind, then don't bother."

Whipping out his wand, he summoned his sports bag and clothes from the wardrobe and placed them on his bed. "I wasn't don't worry; I know how much your pride means to you: but if it's any consolation, I'd rather give you my spot to London then go spend a few days with them."

"Pfft," Hermione spluttered. "Mr Quidditch-is-my-life-and-love doesn't want to go to a Quidditch related conference, Merlin how times have changed!"

"Well if I let you go lass, who would win our little wager? I don't think either of us would be satisfied with a stalemate." He dodged a pillow to the head.

He had yet to learn of the complexities of Hermione Granger and how quickly she could shift from cheerful and vibrant to so angry and snarky; but he knew he was partly blame for all her premenstrual attitudes. And he enjoyed it immensely, masochist that he was.

He shoved in his clothes and muttered a spell shrinking the bag, placing it in the pockets of the jacket on his bed. He looked down at her; but she avoided his gaze. He sighed.

"Look, I know it's cliché, but make yourself at home. I'm sure you know where your room is …," she huffed, "and the library: there are a few other rooms that you can go in that are hidden behind some of the paintings, that I'm sure you'll find." He paused, it might not help the situation, but he'd try. "You can try contacting Harry through a special Floo network that I'm sure is still up. He might be able to get you through…"

She sat up only to glare at him. "I doubt it. Well have fun won't you? I can't imagine what's so important that all the teams across the league have to talk about, but I'm sure it involves a couple of nights of heavy drinking and getting friendly with the ladies!"

He smirked, "Don't get jealous, I can only handle one woman at a time."

She rolled her eyes, "that I find hard to believe."

His gaze darkened, he held her chin, "if there is one thing you should know about me, it's that when I am with one woman, I will not be with another. That, if nothing else, is something you can count on."

Hermione bit her lip, "okay," she said softly. This had been the only time he'd shown true anger to her; it had clearly affected him at some level. She wanted to believe him, she really did. But her history with men made it all the more difficult.

He picked up his jacket. "Don't get into too much mischief or do anything stupid like go outside okay? There's supposed to be a bad snow storm coming, and the last thing I need is to come home and find you pneumonia or something."

Now she looked at him. Was he genuinely concerned for her or was this just to get back into her good books? Heck, she didn't even know why she was considerably annoyed with him; he hadn't done a thing wrong. Well besides the fact of wanting to sleep with her and make a game of it- but then she had created the rules. Wouldn't Dominic be thrilled? "I'll be sure to keep that in mind: oh and remember…protection. I have no doubt you'll end up getting beaten to a pulp for pissing someone off."

"I'll keep that in mind."

She didn't miss the mischievous gleam in his eye. He stalked to the bed like a wolf hunting a lamb. But she stood her ground, chin high up in the air glaring at him all the way. Before she could lecture him, he went in for the kill, grabbing her shoulders and pulling her up against his chest.

He was still shirt-less. She could feel every peck and every bulge of his lean torso, could smell his pine-like scent, could feel her bare breasts beneath her shirt tighten in anticipation. And then his lips were on hers, his teeth gently nibbling and his tongue slowly caressing her lower lip, enticing her to give him entry. He lightly trailed his hands from the middle of her inner thighs, up under her shirt to her navel and back down again, repeating the caress, each time touching her a little higher. His touch was so light, so electric, her senses sharpened in order to feel as much of it as she could.

It wasn't until he pinched the underside of her nipple that she gasped in shock, and his tongue advanced to her mouth and began its assault, stroking, sucking, soothing, in and out, mimicking what their bodies would promise to do. It was a heady feeling, and she clenched her hands to stop them from pulling his body closer to hers. He must have read her thoughts, as his fingers began unbuttoning her shirt, pulling her close until they were breast to peck, torso to torso, his hardened length pressing against her abdomen. Her nipples tightened even more from the contact sending tingles throughout her body. She had to resist the temptation to fling her legs around his waist and rub herself along him.

And just as quickly as it begun it had finished; he ended the kiss and looked down at her, her eyes were closed and her breathing ragged. She was a hopeless actress, but he'd be damned if he were going to ruin the moment by pointing that out. Stroking a finger down the middle of her breasts he shakily buttoned her top and kissed her clavicle. He needed to pretend that it hadn't affected him all that much, but it was damned hard to considering he was harder than a frozen log! Shit. He hurriedly put on his shirt and jacket, and stalked out of the room before he blew up his plans and taken her with Maggie and his boss in the next room. "Until next time."

Hermione groaned and fell back on the bed; she was way in over her head. She knew she couldn't control her body when her mind wasn't in it, but it had been such a long time and he'd been so…Hell. If she was annoyed before, she was fuming now. Son of a bitch! He could try as he might but he was just as affected as she was, she'd _felt_ it, and that cheered her up somewhat.

Hermione winced as thunder crackled outside. She had a couple of days to gather her thoughts and prepare for his onslaught. What she would struggle the most with, was convincing herself that she didn't want it at all.

* * *

SS


	7. Deception

**The Playboy's Pursuit**

CHAPTER 7:

_Deception_

* * *

"Yes, that many galleons. And I want it posted in tomorrow's issue." She hung up the phone and dialled another number.

"Hello, Krum?"

"YES!" the man on the other end shouted.

Maggie rolled her eyes. "For heaven's sake Viktor, I can hear you; there is no need to shout."

Clearly he still had trouble getting used to the Muggle device of a mobile phone. They were good Muggles. When wizard contraptions didn't work, you could always rely on Muggle technology to get the job done. She just wished the storms hadn't disabled the airports, then that damned doctor would be out of their lives already.

"What do you want Magda?"

She hated that named. "Maggie. This conference is going to take a few days, why don't you see how our little doctor is fairing all alone in the storm, hmm? You know, keep her company?"

Viktor sighed over the line, "I thought you said you wanted them together, why do you want me to tear them apart?"

Men, ugh! "We are not tearing them apart, just putting a little pressure on them. You didn't see them last night, they seemed… close."

"Oh and what are you planning to do then?"

Did she just hear giggling over the line? It was joined by a playful moan. Damn that man, he could never keep his dick in his pants. At least Oliver played one at a time… for a very short time these days. "Nothing much, maybe get the tabloids involved, bribe a girl to pash him, who knows. Just do something in public so the media hits on; you're both big enough personalities for the tabloids to catch."

"Perhaps." And with that he hung up.

She wanted them together, only for a moment before she snatched it away from them. Just like he'd taken a prosperous future from hers and left her out of his self-obsessed life…what they could've had with their little…she didn't think about that. It hurt too much to lose a part of you and the man you wanted…

Maggie sighed as she headed to her appointment at the resort's massage parlour. She'd play the matchmaker, and then she'd become the match-breaker: it all worked out well for her in the end.

She redialled her phone. "Hello Rita, are you busy tonight…?"

* * *

Oliver was desperately trying not to fall asleep as the head-honcho blabbed on about the Christmas Cup. Bobby however wasn't as patient as Oliver and had fallen asleep, his head resting against Oliver's shoulder. His friend's silent snoring along with the monotone droll of the chairmen had started to ire Oliver, who began pushing at Bobby's head with his shoulder.

"Get off you idiot!" Oliver muttered to Bobby, who didn't budge and made a foul noise through his nose. "Get up!"

Maggie was glaring at her two captains. "Shut up Oliver, don't embarrass us!"

Oliver persisted in budging Bobby's head off his shoulder; though not as violently as he did before as he was starting to draw attention. "I'm embarrassing you? The _galoot's_ asleep!"

Maggie shook her head, put her hands on her face and turned away pretending to not know the two men. Luckily for them, their president Philbert Deverill was sitting at the top with the rest of the Official Party.

"The original plan was to have the Cup played in London; but as this awful weather does not seem to dissipate, we have either the choice to relocate or simply not play the Cup this Christmas…" one of the officials said, causing an uproar in the Dome.

Oliver should've been paying attention, but Bobby's head was annoying him immensely. He folded his arms in annoyance as Bobby made himself comfortable against Oliver's shoulder. A wicked smile formed on Oliver's face as he looked down at Bobby. Oliver kept nudging his shoulder knocking about Bobby's head: he built up the speed before moving his body, causing Bobby's head to come crashing down on Oliver's metal chair.

"Holy Fu-!" cursed Bobby as he nursed his head. "What the hell's the matter with you?"

Oliver would've laughed his head off hadn't the whole room looked over at them. Instead he covered his mouth with his hand and bit his thumb to stop laughing.

"Mister's Wood and Rice care to share?" called the official.

Oliver stood and saluted the man, as did Bobby, who was still glaring daggers at Oliver, but did it for the chuckles heard around the room. "Nope lads! Simply a mere incident which was blown out of proportion. Please continue…"

"Yes do," interrupted Bobby. "It was invigorating stuff."

The man took off his glasses and folded his hands in front of him on the table, "yes, well Mr Rice I'm sure you would've noticed had you not been asleep the last hour. Now if you'd please sit, I'm sure we'd all like to continue this meeting as soon as possible."

"Pft, un-bloody-likely," Bobby muttered and sat back down. The meeting continued.

"Damn this Christmas Cup. I mean who bloody wants to play Quidditch on Christmas?" Bobby whispered to Oliver. "Actually don't answer; I know these days you'd prefer Quidditch to sex; so why would a Christmas match be an issue, right?"

Oliver elbowed him under the table, earning both of them a vicious glare from Maggie. "Depends on who I was having sex with…." His lips quirked as he thought of the little witch at his house. Probably tucked in bed, in his shirt, her long curls cascading about the pillow, her cheeks flushed by…yeah right, she was probably setting up a battlefield for when he returned home to mutilate him.

"Oh?"

"Well if I had to do it with Maggie, then yeah I'd rather play Quidditch… hell even wax my balls," he knew she was eavesdropping; her face was going red and her lips pursed. "But if it was a certain shrew currently inhabiting my house…"

Bobby scoffed a little too loudly.

"Ms Carrie!" snapped the annoying man again. Oliver had to admit he was quite impressed with the man's surveillance of the whole room, seeing as it was a huge dome with over 1000 people in it. But then, he supposed, it didn't help that Bobby was making quite a scene. "Could you please settle your captains? We do not need further disruptions!"

"Oh yes sir," said Maggie; unfortunately for Oliver and Bobby, she sent them a hex under the table, an imaginary hand squeezing their necks to suffocation.

"Will you two behave?" she shot Bobby a satisfied smirk as he was making painful, yet silent, grunting sounds; but when she glared at Oliver, his eyes promised actual strangulation. She took the spell off them. "Right, well shut up and stop acting like children."

Oliver took in a deep breath as the bind on him dissipated and looked at Bobby, who sent him a wink and pointed to his wand.

A few hours later Oliver had realised what he had done: sent a leg-binding spell on Maggie so when she stood up, she fell straight to the floor, flashing the room full of people. Bobby ran for his life when she had realised what he did, chuckling all the way.

* * *

Six torturous hours later and it was decided that the Christmas Cup would be held, despite the weather on the day. The players were professional enough to withstand the extreme temperatures and there would be spells and charms to prohibit the weather's brutality. The charity-based Ball would still be held to raise funds for the children's ward at St Mungo's. Oliver thought Hermione would be ecstatic that the Quidditch board decided to raise funds for her cause this year.

Puddlemere and New Zealand's Wellington Warriors were the two teams playing for the Cup as both were the champions of Northern and Southern leagues respectfully; some other teams, such as the Chuddly Cannons would play friendlies before the official match.

"Well Lav isn't too happy about this conference," muttered Ron who had met up with Oliver as he casually followed a speedy Bobby out of the Dome. "Three days away paid break doing nothing. Completely irrational of her if you ask me."

Oliver chuckled. "Hormones out of place after the birth?"

Ron flung his hands. "Oh I wish it was only after the birth: this seems to be a permanent malfunction."

Lavender had given birth to twin girls a few days ago and was still in St Mungo's hospital. Lavender insisted they be called Rose and Daisy because they were her favourite flowers, while Ron wanted to keep tradition and call them by their mother's name (or rather because he wouldn't hear the end of it from his own and decided that calling one of his daughters Molly would shut her up). So in the end they came to a compromise; and called them Molly-Rose and Daisy-Anne. "I have to see if I can get out of here so I can go back to the hospital."

Bobby had just returned, puffing from his escape of Maggie's wrath. "I am so freaking unfit. Anyone seen the witch?"

Suddenly had taken on the form of a toad. Turns out she had been right behind him. Bobby bouncing around angrily. "Serves you right prat." She turned to the other two. "Hello Ron, how's Lavender?"

Unfortunately for Ron, his wife and the grasshopper were good friends, and it didn't help that his sister Ginny, a sport's journalist, was associated with her too. "Still in St. Mungo's. I'm hoping she can stay there for a while…only because she'd get better help from the healers there than with me at home of course…"

Surprisingly she chuckled and stroked his shoulder, turning Ron's face into a bright shade of red. "Oh you are cruel! Send my love won't you?" she then turned to Oliver and shot him a glare. "As for you Wood, what the hell were you and Rice doing in there? You embarrassed all of Puddlemere!"

The toad Bobby had hopped onto Maggie's shoe and started ejecting some mucous on it, distracted Oliver. Maggie shrieked and sent Bobby flying. "Oh you foul ass! Merlin, why do I have to put up with this?" she muttered and was about to storm off before she sweetly added, "Oh and by the way Wood, tell Hermione she looked pretty average in your shirt."

Oliver glared at her back as she walked away; he didn't bother to look at Ron who he assumed was staring daggers at him.

"Good," Ron said. "It's about time she had a little fun."

Oliver raised a brow, "Oh? No threats, no hexes?"

Ron shrugged, "Only if you hurt her, then will I sic Harry on you." Ron sent a sly smirk his way. "No doubt she's making it difficult for you?"

Oliver smirked, "She thinks she's going to tame me."

"She has a way about her," Ron added, then became sombre. "Look, it's not my business what the two of you may get up to. But, from experience, she'll probably say things to hurt you, not because she's mean spirited, but because it's safer for her." Ron shook his head. "She's been carrying some baggage since Krum, so just let her know straight up what your limits are."

Oliver clenched his jaw. He knew he wasn't perfect, he'd done a lot of shitty things in his life, but he wasn't a monster. He didn't frolic about because he wanted to, he needed release, he needed to escape from himself and if there were women willing enough to do it, then hell, why not?

He had found a woman or two he'd considered settling down with, but they only wanted his cash and lifestyle. Hermione may have reservations about him, but on the other hand, how could he trust her? Perhaps her defensive streak was just a ploy to sell a story to the tabloid that she had been another one of Wood's girls.

He knew it and he was pretty sure she did too. What happened between them and this little affair they'd concocted stayed between them and probably wouldn't last outside the next few weeks. So how could they hurt one another? By falling in love?

He scoffed at his own thought. Love, right.

"So what are you doing tonight?" he asked changing the subject.

"Sleeping and eating; probably at the same time." Ron yawned. "You?"

"I was planning to go out to the pub," try to drown away the haunting thoughts of the witch lying in his bed who was going to make it difficult for him to share it with her. "You want to come along?"

"Sure why not. But I'll have to be back home at around 3:30am; my coach doesn't like me staying up late." Ron winked.

Oliver chuckled and said his goodbyes; an angry Bobby hopping behind him.

* * *

It was about 12 o'clock and Ron had had a bit too much to drink. He was rocking back and forth in his chair singing 'My Humps' much to the dismay and amusement of all the Quidditch players in the bar.

Bobby had turned back into his human form, but didn't feel much like partying. His body was covered in spots, a side-effect from the transformation, and he had to resist the temptation to poke out his tongue. And he had a damned hankering for bugs.

A gorgeous redheaded waitress came over to their table, hips in full swing, dramatically flicking her hair over her shoulder. Bobby couldn't take his eyes off her breasts, Ron was still too busy singing and Oliver well, usually he would've tried to charm her, flirted with her, but something was holding him back. Some internal nagging feeling that he couldn't quite put his finger on. But he still watched.

"Hey Mr Wood, would you like a refill?" she bent down as if to fill his glass, exposing a full view of her generous chest.

"Sure why not," he didn't look down; he kept his eyes on hers.

She smiled at him and started to pour, however missed some of his glass and spilled down his pants. "Oops." She grabbed a napkin and started to pat him down, a little too close he noticed. "I am so very sorry."

He didn't think so. "It's all right...Lola," he glanced at her name tag. With a smile he took the napkin of her, which seemed to surprise her as her hand now touched him. She slowly moved it away.

"If there's anything I can do to repay you," she put on hand above her breast and one gently on his shoulder, "please let me know."

He noticed how she bit her lip, "I'll keep that in mind."

She smiled and winked at him, walking away with a full swing of her hips.

Bobby didn't take his eyes off her. "What the hell was that?"

Oliver merely shrugged and took a sip of his drink. "She poured me some beer."

"Pouring herself onto you more like it," Bobby shook his head. "I don't know how you do it."

"Well I'm not interested."

Bobby roared with laughter, causing a drunken Ron to stop his singing and join in on the laughter, though he didn't quite know why. "The bait's dangling and you don't want a bite?"

"The hook's rusted," he took a big swig of his drink.

Bobby winked at him, "Or are you a little distracted?"

Ron piped in, asking drunkenly, "Hermione? How is she? I haven't seen her over a few weeks!" It seemed he forgot their previous conversation.

"She's been trying to call but the lines and networks were cut off believe me, she would've if she could."

When they'd been locked in the room together, Hermione would mutter things to herself, which kept Oliver both annoyed and amused for ages. She'd worry about Lavender's pregnancy and when the twins were due, "Oh no! Lav's going to think I snubbed her! I wonder if she has had the baby? Or babies as she thinks, but I don't believe in that hocus-pocus anyway…oh God, Crookshanks!" she'd then banged her head either against her hand or the wall. Other times she'd think about the children in the hospital, her mother and some odd fellow called Johnny.

Ron stroked his chin and sent Oliver a mischievous glance. "You two are a couple or something, eh?"

So much for it not being his business. "Why is it that a man and woman cannot simply be friends? That in his moment of chivalry, he helped an old friend in her time of need…" there wasn't any point going over this again to a drunken Ron.

Ron sent him shot him a bored look, "When there isn't sexual tension between the two then they can. At the Quidditch fair day, you could slice it up and serve it, it was that thick!"

"I'll tell you what," slurred Bobby, it seemed the alcohol had started to take effect. "If Oliver wasn't in the picture, I'd ask her out."

Oliver rolled his eyes, but something had irked him about what Bobby said. "Even though I'm not, I doubt she'd be interested."

"I mean look at her seriously. She wears a jumper and looks hot." He leaned in, "She's not like the other girls who fling themselves at you, she's got the pretty face, those curves… and she's smart! She's got morals and she'll fight for them…she's got those…"

"Bobby stop drooling," Oliver handed him a napkin; he literally was drooling, though Oliver suspected it was partly because he had just transformed from a toad. "We're currently just friends." But that didn't mean he was about to let someone else have her.

"Meh," Ron didn't believe him for a second.

"And besides, I'm not in her good books at the moment."

Ron laughed. "Why, insult her old S.P.E.W. organisation?

"No actually," Oliver muttered, standing and took a final swig of his beer. "She got a tad insulted when I insinuated she'd be begging me to sleep with her."

Bobby and Ron, both slightly a little tipsy, opened their mouths in shock, before forgetting what Oliver had said and ordered another beer.

Oliver left them singing "I will always love you" and headed for his hotel room, with a weird feeling that someone was watching him. He stopped to autograph some signs for fans, but the tingling feeling didn't leave him.

* * *

Though Rita Skeeter adored Oliver Wood, she disliked Hermione Granger with a vengeance. The little witch knew too much about her; more than she liked. So when Maggie had called to try bring her down a notch, she had been all in.

She was currently apparating to Oliver's hotel room snapping pictures from a distance, ready to capture the moment where Oliver and the plant would emerge from his room.

She'd been waiting for an hour before she'd seen Oliver emerge from the elevator and walk to his suite. When he shut the door she hurried over to the door, setting up a set of _Extendable Ears._

Her eyes glittered as she listened to the conversation behind the door. Maggie would love this. Biting her lip to stop herself from giggling she quickly hurried over to her hiding place as footsteps thundered towards the door.

A pretty blonde looking woman exited with a shirt-less Oliver, his hand tight on her forearm, his face dangerously dark and brooding as he shut the door in her face.

The woman looked around for Rita and glared at her as she approached. "I told you it wouldn't work. The night he was at Malfoy's club he came to me after and told me it was over. I wasn't supposed to see him again."

Rita shrugged and rubbed her glasses, before putting them up to the light, checking for smudges. "Oh Pish posh, you didn't have to sleep with him. Though what a scoop that would've been," she added silently. She looked up at the dishevelled blonde. "You can go now I have all I need. Maggie will reimburse you."

She started up and was heading away before the blonde spoke up. "We shouldn't be doing this, it's not fair."

Rita scowled. "You're a courtesan you do this all the time, and since you're getting paid I don't see what the problem is." She smirked and before she apparated added, "Besides sweetie all's fair in love and war. And one day when you get a decent job, you'll understand."

* * *

The next day a game was organised between some of the players from the Northern League playing against the Southern League. It was supposed to be a friendly, but the tricks and pranks they played on each other were less than friendly. Last year one guy ended up with a rubber knife stuck into his side, another with fireworks burning the inside of his mouth.

Oliver was excited, he hadn't played a full game in about a month since winning the English Premiership, and the thrill of the game was appealing to him. Bobby decided not to play, pathetically hung-over from the night before, and still randomly hopping about when the mood should strike. Bobby had gotten Maggie back though; he had enlarged a huntsman spider to the size of a dinner plate and hid in her bed…and well…

All Oliver heard from the room next to his was the simple; "I'M GOING TO KILL YOU RICE!"

He put on some dark jeans and a red singlet top, which fit a little too well on his broad frame, before walking out with his broom toward the other players. Looking around he was surprised not to find his Viktor Krum at the conference. In fact he was really surprised.

He decided to ask Maggie as she burst through the doors. "Bloody Rice. Oh what do you want Wood?" she asked with annoyance.

"Where's Krum?"

She laughed at him, he wasn't impressed. "Wow you really don't know much do you? Wood, Krum's retiring remember? He's over at Puddlemere Stadium in the office, you know learning the ropes. Since he won't be playing at the Cup there's little reason for him to be here."

That brought him up short, remembering the courtesan in his room last night. God, he hoped no one saw her coming out of it. "So what, he's taken over already? Then what's Deverill doing here?"

She shrugged her shoulders, "He's here until the end of the season, so after the Christmas Cup. And besides, if I were you, I'd be more concerned about how to explain a certain article to a certain bit- er, witch." She gave him a collagen-induced pout. "Poor Oliver never could keep it in your pants could you?"

The colour drained from his and he grabbed her arm. "What are you talking about?"

She looked down at the tight grip on her arm and raised a brow. "Be careful Oliver, we wouldn't want the rumours to be true. Anyway, I really would love to stay and chat, but I'm off to the spa. Have a good game Wood." She said and ran a finger over his exposed shoulder, before laughing and walking off.

"She gone?" asked Bobby, this time checking to see if she was behind him.

"Yeah, off to the spa. Maybe you could finish her off and drown her?"

"Too tempting. And I don't want to get wet. You off to the game?"

"Yeah, got nothing better to do." Oliver answered simply. But he had to get a hold of the paper. Now.

Bobby's brow rose. That was weird. Since meeting Oliver back in their reserve days, he was obsessed with Quidditch, he'd wake up at four and start training at five; he'd even end training a few hours after it had ended. He'd train mercilessly at the gym for hours on end, and put the game before any events in his personal life. Something was up.

Just as Oliver was about to exit with the rest of the guys, Ron came rushing up. "Where are you off to?"

"The game. Where's the fire?"

Ron scowled, "Have you seen the papers? God Wood, they did a number on you," handing Oliver the _Prophet_.

His eyes skimmed over the article, his jaw was clenched so tight Ron swore he heard teeth cracking.

_…but where is his new found flame? Sources at the hospital say Dr Granger is taking a well-deserved break, but if this image is anything to go by, could it be that Wood is keeping her prisoner?_

"Goddamn it!" he swore and threw the paper in the rubbish. A few of the people around him flinched.

"I won't question you Wood, but don't let it get to you." Ron said.

Oliver's dark gaze swung to Ron who didn't flinch at his friend's anger. "You believe this rubbish don't you? That after the lecture you gave me, I went out and got myself a whore? Bloody hell, Ron. I walked into my room, got ready to sleep and –" he swore. "I'm not explaining myself to you damn it." Just as he was about to storm off Ron grabbed his arm.

"Hell Wood, I don't give a shit about this rubbish. And I don't believe it. But if there is anything happening between you and Hermione and she finds out…"

Oliver winced. That's why he was so mad. If she found out, any sort of progress he'd made with her would be destroyed. "Well since nothing's going on, at least not the way you think," Would he believe that his friend was letting herself be seduced? "The only things she'll lecture me about are STD's. So if you don't mind, I think I'm going to ditch the game. Or who knows, maybe I'll kidnap a poor woman and beat her up. Or maybe whip her into compliance. I might have to phone a friend, tough choice."

Ron looked over to Bobby who had the paper from the trash then back to Oliver. "Look if you want you can come with me to St. Mungo's; I've got to see Lavender before she sends her mother after me." He winced

Oliver was battling with the angel and devil on his shoulder. One was telling him to bask in his anger; the other encouraging him to go to St Mungo's and check up on Hermione's patients. The other argued that he did not owe her anything; while the other thought it would be a nice gesture.

"He'll go," said Bobby, "and if it's alright, I'll sneak off with you too. Who knows, maybe we can owe the kids the sometime for the week they missed?"

"Sure," he pulled out the Portkey, a tiny replica of a snitch. "We've only got three hours though." They all put their hands on the snitch, and were off to St Mungo's.

* * *

"What are you doing here?" a startled Hermione asked as she opened the door.

"I could ask you the same question." A bored looking Viktor Krum answered.

Hermione scowled. "Perhaps, though I wonder. I mean, considering that you know Oliver is at the Quidditch conference, just who were you expecting to open the door?"

He ignored her and pushed past her into the house. She sent him a quizzical look. "What? You expect me to stand outside in the cold and rain? Come now Hermione, you once had impeccable manners."

She folded her arms and followed him in. "And once you weren't a sadistic, chauvinistic loser, but we all change." She scowled as he made himself comfortable on Oliver's chair. "What do you want Krum?"

"To keep you comfortable of course." He said it as if they'd been friends the last few years instead of bickering ex-lovers.

She continued to stand. "I assume you mean 'company', but of course I never did find your stupidity charming. You should leave you know."

Krum leaned forward casually playing around with ornaments adorning the table. "I don't think he cares, he's too busy having fun." His eyes glittered as he stared at her below his brows. "You have seen the papers no?"

No she hadn't, it seemed Oliver didn't get the mail posted daily, that or the weather was prohibiting the owls to fly. "No, I have not seen them. I haven't left this house in days."

"Here," he whipped out the Prophet, a bored expression on his face.

"How convenient," Hermione muttered as she took the prophet. "Not planned at all." Without another word she put the paper on the table and went to make coffee, having accustomed herself to Oliver's house. She ignored Krum who was walking around without a care in the world.

"So how have you found it here the past few days?" he opened up a few draws and casually peered inside.

"Fine." She twitched but ignored him.

"Eager to get back?" he picked up a few trophies.

"Yes." He was making his way toward her now.

"It seems cosy enough. Nice and close." He came up behind her.

She turned to glare at him. He was closer than she thought, his body mere inches from hers. She gulped, her heart thudding; whether she liked it or not, he always had some sort of effect on her. "What are you insinuating? That Oliver and I are having an affair?"

He shrugged and took the coffee out of her hands. "Well not anymore, I mean he wouldn't be doing things like this if you were, no?" the threw the _Prophet_ at her to a page with a picture of Oliver and a gorgeous woman coming out of his room, flustered and dishevelled. His hand was gripping tightly on her arm and she looked afraid.

_Wood's' Playing the Field_ the title read. _Playboy extraordinaire Oliver Wood seems to be hitting it off lately in company with four women over the past two weeks. Last week he was seen in an embrace with Pansy Parkinson of the Homowizds and a day later with his on again off again lover Camilla Myers. But his latest conquest, Dark Lord Defeater and Healer Hermione Granger has had the gossip world on its head…_

She threw down the paper and turned to Krum. "How long has this been going on?"

He shrugged, "ever since the Quidditch carnival. You've been the focus of every paper and magazine. They've been doing cover stories on your lives and anonymous sources have been giving accounts on your relationship; others are betting on how long you will last. Someone has even put down a million galleons to the Children's ward at St Mungo's if you two are still together by New Year's." He smirked as her brow rose.

Thoughts, both honorary and not, spun a deceitful web in her mind. Donating that much to the hospital, and all she had to do was appear friendly with Oliver in public for a few more weeks, would do wonders for her ward. They could update the play area for the children; buy more ingredients for potions and beds so parents could have a place to stay…

God it was tempting.

"A million galleons you say?" she shrugged casually. "They mustn't think much of the two of us."

He took a sip of his coffee, and inwardly smiled that she still knew how to make it just the way he liked it. "Well I suppose they know your reputation of being a workaholic and a recluse-" she glared at this, "-and his for being a womaniser. Actually, it wasn't a million blow out. It was 250 000 if you went with him to the Christmas Cup ball; 250 000 if you're seen together at the Cup and 500 000 if you're engaged by New Years. I mean, imagine what that could do for the hospital…" His eyes never left hers. The thing with Hermione was that you could read every expression on her pretty face. If one looked close enough, they could read her thoughts and feelings very easily. He was pretty sure what was going through her mind now.

Engaged by New Years? Not bloody likely. So it would appear she could only gamble half of that for the ward. It was still good money. And she wouldn't really be hurting anyone's feelings, would she? Wood was playing with her anyway, trying to seduce her and all. The prat. She could just make it easier for him. But in public?

Ah hell.

"Indulge me, will you Krum." She tried not to sound too interested as she sat opposite him on the counter. "What are the conditions? I mean…"

Krum sent her a devilish smile. Maggie would be pleased, after all it had been the two of them who had instigated the bet. He pulled out a few pages, torn from a wizard magazine.

She took the paper from him and her eyes bulged. Bloody hell, the media was right up their arse conspiring whether a baby was on the way; if Oliver had her locked up and chained in his home; if they were secretly married; if her absence was due to the fact that Voldemort had returned and had kidnapped her. She scoffed. Then there was a section with the wagers. Only the engagement had to be confirmed the rest had to be seen. She could manage that.

She stared up at Krum's handsome face, so similar though so very different to Oliver's; from his dark hair to the thick ashes on his brown eyes…she didn't like the look in them at the moment. "What's the real reason you came here Krum?"

Viktor sighed and took both their cups and cleaned them. "To help you of course. I know you are not in a relationship and I know your ward needs the money. Wood will be back tomorrow and I think you should do it for a while you know, until the Cup at least."

Her eyes narrowed, "Why do you care?"

"I don't, but the only way to get help St Mungo's is if you're seen with Wood. Oh and also Maggie thought you might need to get out and about to buy essentials for your time here." He saw she jaw clench as he mentioned the Bug, "and I figured you did not know your way around the area and as I do, I'd come keep you company…like old times."

"Times I would rather like to forget." She muttered silently. "And I don't need you to keep me company I've been doing fine the last two days." Days she had spent snooping around his house, reading his books and keeping far away from the naughties. Well, he was a bachelor after all, but she didn't have to like it.

"If you keep on this defensive act, I'll just have to assume you still like me Hermione," he chuckled at her glare. "Come, let me take you out…not on a date," he quickly added as he noticed her scowl, "but you need things and I'm bored. I'll give you ten minutes to get ready or I'll pick you up and take you as you are." In her jeans and Oliver's track top. He tried to hide the scowl on his face. "And no arguments."

Well she did need things…what the hell. She'd use him. "You have a problem with manners Krum, you don't force people to do things, you ask nicely." She got off the chair with a 'humph' and stalked to her room.

"Perhaps if you were being nice in the first place I wouldn't have to force you to do anything."

She responded with a curse

* * *

"Ron you idiot! Took you long enough!" complained Lavender.

Ron went straight over to his girls, his gaze softening at their little forms. "Well we're very busy, you know discussing stuff."

Lavender rolled her eyes, "Brooms and Boobs? Oh give me her," she took the little girl out of Ron's hands.

"Oi!" He said and picked up his other daughter, poking his tongue out to Lavender. "Ner there's another one."

"Oh real mature Ron." She turned to Oliver and Bobby, who stood near the corner trying to stay far away from the bickering couple. "He didn't even believe I was having twins, but I told him, now he owes me two months of babysitting."

"Two months?" asked Bobby.

"Yeah one for each kids she'd pop out, unfortunately for me, the little hand thing she did was right." Ron joked.

Lavender got a wicked idea and handed Molly-Rose to Bobby. "She won't hurt, she hasn't got teeth yet."

Bobby looked at Lavender, "She's not the one I'm worried about."

Lavender grabbed Oliver's left hand. "Palm up."

"What are you doing?" Oliver asked amused.

"Seeing how many kids you're going to have."

"Right."

She smacked him, "Stop being such a smart ass. So Hermione's with you eh?"

"How did you know?" Ron asked surprised, and started to burp Daisy.

"Well some people do divination, Ron. You'd be surprised what you can find." She started focusing on the necklace dangling over Oliver's hand. Round and round the pendant went, in a smooth rhythm, before pausing for a while. Lavenders brow creased and was about to pull away, before the pendant moved up and down in a line, then paused, before yet again moving in a line motion before spinning in a tiny circle.

Oliver sent her a devilish smile that  
made Lavender swoon. "An army of kids?"

Lavender laughed, though it didn't reach her eyes. She and Ron, Harry and Ginny were having wagers that Hermione and Oliver would be in a relationship by the end of the year. A _permanent_ one. And though they shared similar results, Oliver's first child had been a daughter. Hermione's had been a son. She knew what Ron would say, that her little trick was just that; a trick: it held no real significance. But it had yet to be wrong. She shook her head and smiled up at Oliver, though her husband hadn't missed the frown. "No, that's what Hermione said too."

"You got her into it also? So what's the verdict? "

"Well the order was a daughter, two sons and then another girl. You'll have your hands full." She went to grab Molly from Bobby who was holding the young girl away from him in case she threw up on him, and handed her to Oliver, who took the girl as if he was accustomed to it. "Wow, I'm surprised, usually men act really uncomfortable with newborns, like Ron, but you're pretty good. Rich, handsome, nice and good with kids; didn't I luck out." She joked.

"I'm nice," Ron said defensively and cooed at his daughter.

The others laughed, but Oliver was too caught up in what Lavender had revealed to him. Well not that he believed in the old wives tale, there would always be a fifty-fifty shot that his first would have been a daughter, but that revelation hit too close to home. He remembered…she was barely a day old when the doctors told them…

Bobby waved a hand in front of his face. "You alright Wood? It's the same expression on your face when I told you Jordan was taking her tits out."

Oliver snapped back from a past memory

Oliver and Bobby stayed with the couple, until Lavender had to feed the babies. Deciding to give them some privacy, they headed down to the paediatric ward, where they were met by Dom and some other nurse who were shocked and giggly at the presence of these two handsome players.

"You're looking after our Hermione I trust?" Asked Dom as he led them to where the children were "playing".

"I don't think that woman would let any man take care of her. So how's Jayden?"

"Well he's seen better days, he's much better since his last attack." Dom sighed. "Here we are."

All the kids were speechless as the two men walked toward them, some hiding behind the others though peeking as they walked pass. "We have a surprise today kids! You all know Oliver Wood and Bobby Rice from Puddlemere-" he was received with many nods and smiles. "Well they're going to stay here for a bit while you're having a time out session okay? So ask questions, get them to help you and maybe they'll talk some Quidditch with you!"

"Of course we will," they had discussed it before they entered the "playroom"; Oliver also had charmed a special card-like object so Hermione could see how all her patients were fairing. He faced the kids, charmed by their shyness; Jayden however was waving wildly at him. "And if you'd like, we want to show Doctor Granger how you all are because she misses you all in Ireland and I know wished she were here; so we have this," he pulled out the card, "so we can record any messages you'd like to send her."

They had spent an hour and a half with the children, who'd grown quite comfortable with the Quidditch players; more so than their mothers who had trouble getting words out of their mouths- probably because their tongues were hanging out. They spoke about Quidditch, played with the toys and a real snitch and had recorded amusing messages to their favourite doctor. Ron had even come to spend time with them before they headed back to the Dome.

"That was a real nice thing you did," said Dom. "I know both Hermione and the kids will appreciate it."

"Our pleasure, plus we owed some time to the kids anyway."

"We appreciate it," Dom said. "Most of the players who have done this charity stuff were quite eager to leave as soon as they could or found it difficult to connect with the children. You guys were wonderful."

* * *

Now, a weather update:

**_Meteorologists predict that the horrible weather the United Kingdom is experiencing is set to stay for the rest of the month, with strong, snowy winds moving south from the Arctic. A deadly snow storm is expected within the next four hours to hit Ireland, having already taken out three lives in London. It is encouraged that all residence stay indoors while the storm passes._**

**_In other news: if I only had a brain. That's what…._**

* * *

"Honey I'm home." He and Bobby had just apparated to find an empty room. He started to walk around the house while Bobby lay on the couch. "Hell- Aunt Patty?" a figure had hurriedly barged into him, which he knew was not Hermione's. "Where's the fire?"

"Oh hello dear! Nice to see you again was the conference good?"

"It was bloody boring Ms Alasdair. There was absolutely no Quidditch talk at all, and all we could do was go out to the pub and spend time with all the girls. It was awful." Bobby mocked.

"I didn't see you there Bobby! Hello!" Patricia Alasdair gave him a deadly hug. "I hope you weren't hypnotised by the ladies Oliver. If Hermione found out, and then the wedding!"

Damn it, his mother had gotten to her.

"What?" blurted Bobby who sent a questioning glance to Oliver.

"Never mind Rice, I'll tell you later."

Patricia was moving from spot to spot. "Oh tell him dear, oh alright I will." But before Oliver could pounce, Patty blurted: "Oliver and Hermione are getting married, didn't you know dear? They've been bickering about it the last week!"

"Oh really?" Bobby asked, Oliver expected him to get mad, but instead a wide smile crept upon his face. "And I do believe I will have the best man honours?"

"Of course." Oliver glared at him; sending him a shut up or I'll- kill- you- or-turn- you- into- a- toad- again look. "Where is my lovely bride-to-be anyway?"

"OOOOOOOHH!" Patty hurried off to the living room, clutching a newspaper in her hands and tried to light the fireplace: perhaps she could burn it?

Oliver took the matches of his aunt and lit it himself, what was with women and the inability to light fireplaces?

"I could've done that dear. How was your trip?"

He noticed she was talking very fast and kept a keen eye at the door. She flinched when a deep roar of thunder cracked outside. "Aunt, where's Hermione? She didn't try to Floo did she?" he started to get angry. He didn't care if she didn't like his company- well maybe a little- but he told her not to do anything stupid- if she had…

More thunder boomed and the rain hit the windows hard. Bobby didn't seem to make the situation any better. "Man I'd hate to be outside now. Dead man walking."

Finally she fell apart. "Oh I'm sorry Oliver! I shouldn't of had encouraged her!"

Both men sent quizzing glances to each other. He finally started to sooth her down. "Aunt Patty, it's okay, stop crying, what shouldn't you have encouraged her to do?"

"Well, you see I came around yesterday to clean things up. And I didn't know Hermione was here," she paused, "how could you leave the poor girl here by herself anyway?" she scolded. "She said she was just on her way out to get a few things she'd forgotten yesterday, some breadcrumb man showed her around…" He swore. "But it was only light sprinkling then, and she asked me if I wanted anything and I asked if she could go down to the bakery to see if the fresh cream buns were really fresh…and well…"

He didn't realise he was squeezing is aunts arms. "AND?"

"Well dear, that was over five hours ago."

Damn Granger and her stubbornness, when he got her home he was going to lock her in his room and never let her out! Why didn't she listen? She knew what was coming when he left, the killer storm, but no she had to go out into the eye of it. If the weather wasn't going to kill her, he was. Did she dislike him that much? Oh and what was this about Breadcrumb anyway? "Did she take her wand?" she may be alright if she took her wand…please have taken your wand!

"Oh I don't know dear, really I don't. I am so sorry…" his aunt started to tear up. It wasn't a typical storm: this thing could kill. There was massive flooding in some parts of the country, in others power lines had crashed to the floor, shocking anyone in its vicinity; others were snowed in or had trees fall onto their houses; some were struck by lightning. In the past few hours, there were over 30 deaths in Ireland, 15 of them were unidentified.

"Rice, take my aunt home, I'll bring her car around later." Oliver said as calmly as he could; and both Patty and Rice knew better to argue.

"Isn't it a bit dangerous mate?" asked Bobby, who had only now realised the severity of the situation.

"No, the portal should still be up. Take her home and yourself."

"Okay mate, good luck," Bobby patted Oliver's shoulder in encouragement. "Don't get yourself killed." Bobby went outside charming the squib's car before Flooing out with Patty, leaving Oliver to seething in anger.

Oliver kept pacing, where would a rebellious stickler for the rules go? Library? Sporting store? Maybe she was that annoyed at him she went to find a motel? He didn't care; he just had to find her.

As he was pacing he stared at the floor and saw a curious imagine in the Daily Prophet. It was of Hermione and Viktor Krum. And it was today's paper. It happened yesterday.

Blind rage soared through his body as he crushed the paper in his hands. So that's how she wanted to play was it? Tease him a little by flirting with another man. His nemesis, and from what he could remember, her ex. Well, he'd just see about that. When he got his hands on her there was no way she was leaving his side again.

That's when he saw it, a long dark stick on his coffee table: the wand of Hermione Granger: she hadn't taken it. He cursed Merlin, he cursed Krum, he cursed Hermione but he blamed himself.

He ran out of the house, with no knowledge of where he was going or what he was going to do when and if he found her. All he knew was that he had to, because he'd never be able to get over her.

* * *

Black clouds moving rapidly across a deadly red sky. The wind was ferocious. Thick branches were pulled off trees and were flinging themselves about; the tiles on roofs were falling off; rain was coming down hard and fast making flooding the ground.

Oliver held his arm across his head, shielding the wind from his face. He cursed. He'd been wandering about for fifteen minutes without a sighting of the witch he was planning to hex. The town wasn't that big, surely he would've found her by now?

As if his prayers were answer he saw a tiny huddled figure making its way haphazardly about. When he saw the curly head of hair he knew it was Hermione and raced over to her before she got run over by the car coming her way.

…..

She had found that the fresh cream buns sold at the bakery down the street from Oliver's home were in fact freshly made by the bakers that day: wouldn't Patty be thrilled! She had also found that she was wand-less and stuck in a brutal storm that had killed almost 40 people within the past few hours in Ireland alone.

She also found that she had no idea where she was and in shit, literally; some sort of animal must've gotten just a little too excited and decided to spread its joy about the place.

She ducked suddenly as a large cardboard sign flew her way. "Buy Godfrey's vacuums! They'll blow your mind away!" the sign had read.

She continued to walk; somewhere, anywhere she didn't care, she just needed to get out of this storm. She saw mothers running to their Muggle cars with their children hugged tightly toward them; old men sitting on chairs at the front of looted shops drinking their life way; she saw beggars hiding in bus-stop shelters to get away from the strong winds and the torrential rain which was coming…what she didn't see was the upbringing of dirt and dust, which found its way into her eyes.

"Bloody Merlin!" she cried, and though knew it was bad, couldn't help but rub her eyes to try and remove the unwanted substance. She opened her eyes in time to see a car zooming her way, oblivious to the fact she was in its path; but she couldn't move- and just when it was about to hit her, she screamed, but not from the impact of the car, but rather a solid figure threw her out of the way and onto the hard pavement.

She stared up to see her saviour and attacker: A very angry Oliver Wood! Her head throbbed. What the hell was he doing outside; didn't he know it was dangerous?

He looked down at her glaring. "I thought I told you not to go outside? So why do I find you here?"

Well that settled it; she had enough of men ordering her around. She was going to throttle him. Hermione didn't have time to as a thick branch was blown their way; Oliver grabbed at her shoulders and flipped them out of the way. Just. Hermione thought it was amazing he saw it, since she could hardly see his face in the downpour.

His tight grip on her loosened, as he pulled them up. Without a word he grabbed her hand, almost wrenching it out of the socket, and pulled her under a bus shelter. She was about to thank him, when he snapped.

"What on earth are you doing out in his weather? If that stupid Muggle contraption…"

She glared at him, "I'm fully aware of it. And for your information, when I left it wasn't torrential…I just happened to get lost…" She added regretfully.

"For someone who is supposed to be bright, you certainly dulled the moment."

She wrenched her hand free, "I don't need you lecturing me Wood, and what are you doing out here?"

He looked toward the heavens: _give me strength. _"Just thought I'd take a stroll you know, hope to get concussed by a giant board of wood or if I'm lucky knocked down by a pinto."

She became aware of the click of a camera. What the hell was going on? Who was stupid enough to take photos of them in weather like this? She hoped they got injured severely.

Oliver winced and looked out. It was still torrential but they had to get back home. "Come on let's go." Grabbing her hand- she really needed to have a chat with him about his machismo- they ran together down the lane slowed down by the now calf-deep flooding.

They seemed in the all clear until a thick branch, carried by the wind, hit into shop windows, shattering glass about the place.

Unfortunately for Oliver, who had just dodged a mobile mailbox, had no time to react as the glass flung about his body. He winced in pain as it stabbed his torso and chest. He looked down to see a large piece of glass, about 15cm long and half an inch thick, lodged deeply in his skin.

"Bloody Merlin," he yelled as he yanked the shard from his chest. Blood ran freely and quickly from the wound. He lifted it to his face, and saw about two inches covered in blood. Well that explained a lot. He didn't think the weather would be so deadly, but alas, being stabbed by mobile glass would be his downfall.

"Oh god, Oliver!" Hermione stopped and lifted his shirt to check his injury. "It's…it's well not good…"

"Thank you Doctor Magoo." He flung the glass angrily on the ground with a curse and trudged on, ignoring the pain in his chest and the rest on his battered body.

She scowled at him. "It's Mr Magoo, for your information."

He heard a woman's scream a few meters from him. She was trapped behind a fallen tree and was hysterically pointing to her pram. He swore, a small, though potentially deadly tree was falling toward her pram. Thankfully he was quite agile thanks to Quidditch, and just in time, he pushed the pram away before the tree came roaring down. It clipped his shoulder and he gasped in pain as he heard a crack. The mother escaped and ran toward her child, picking it up and could not stop thanking the handsome man who rescued her baby. He told her to get out of the area, and she obediently obeyed.

Holding his battered shoulder, he cursed, wondering why not all women were obedient like the mother had been. Damn her! He told her to stay, not to do anything stupid.

Hermione looked at him, bruised and bleeding and felt a rush of warmth overcome her. When it came to her he was dictatorial, but he was rather honourable and brave. He hadn't even thought twice about rescuing the mother, and even herself. He could've been killed. She bit her lip. Was it her fault that he was out here? Was he looking for her?

She thought about that on the hazardous trip home.

* * *

Oliver gripped the couch until his knuckles were white, the pain of the thick branch hitting his shoulder was cutting into his bones; and the cut on his chest would not stop bleeding.

Hermione shut the door and rushed over to him. His shirt was drenched and was torn in many areas; his arm was limp and his handsome face twisting in pain. "Oh Oliver," she moaned as she ran her fingers up and down his body, trying to search for more wounds; if he wasn't in so much pain, he'd have had her under him in seconds.

"Keep going," he tried to hold back a groan as her hands slowly and lightly, touched his lower abdomen. He noted she rolled her eyes.

"Why is it that I always have to fix you up?" Concern etched over her face as she observed the deep cut on his chest. Hermione swallowed and tried to get a grip on herself. As she ran her hands up to his shoulder, she noted how dark, broad and hard he really was; totally masculine and…bruised he was.

"Because you don't do it right the first time," he hissed as she squeezed his shoulder. He was about to snap at her, but noted she had just removed a large piece of wood from it. "And I'm a masochist."

"You're a pain, that's what you are." She saw another splinter and gently took it out, his blood on her fingers. Bells went off in her head reminding her how unhygienic it was. But she didn't care, she just wanted him better.

"Jeez!" He wrenched his shoulder out of her hands, or tried to, but she was holding on tight and fell onto the couch beside him. They glared at each other.

She was taking an awfully long time, thought Wood. Not that he would've minded of course, but under the current circumstance he'd rather not be semi-unconscious when she was touching him- and he was rather annoyed at her too. "See anything you like?"

She scowled at him, but ignored the comment. Even if she lied, he would see through it: because well let's face it: there was a lot about him she liked, though would never admit it to him, less he get an even bigger head. "This is the same shoulder I treated in the dressing room at Puddlemere isn't it?"

"Ah does it matter?" he tried to get up and out of the Hermione's touch. But she pushed him down, concern in her eyes. "Ouch!"

"I've treated two year olds who didn't whine was much as you!" she hurried to Oliver's room and searched for the jacket she had worn to Puddlemere on that fateful day. In it she had some medical supplies and herbs she had charmed to fit in the pocket. She threw all the items around the room in a mad panic until she had found it.

Hurrying back she saw Oliver trying to take off his shirt with his free hand. "Here let me," grabbing the edges she tore and gently moved it off his shoulders and down his arms.

He never took his eyes off hers. "You're not going to use that pink crap on me are you?"

She rolled her eyes, charming the kit to its normal size. Her eyes widened as she took out the bottle. There was only enough for a small wound, and not the deep gash of Oliver's. "Look, I'm going to levitate you to the bed okay? It'll be easier for me to mend the wound then."

"Oh no you're not." He stood instantly and almost regretted it, as a wave of nausea overcame him. "I'll walk there, I have my pride!"

She glared at him, stubborn, stubborn man. "Not right now you don't, I'm helping you." She put his good arm over her shoulders and ducked under his arm, allowing her to carry his weight. Slowly they trudged to his room.

Oliver, though incredibly annoyed at her for not listening to him, was highly amused at her and her attempt to carry him. If anything he was moving her along to his bedroom, after all she was a little bit more than half his size. He hissed in pain as blood oozed from his cut, dripping onto the floor.

"Come on Oliver, just a bit more." She flung open the door and gently sat him on the bed. He started to lie down but she stopped him, any pressure he was going to put on his body, was going to make the cut worse. She cursed, "stop." She gently sat on the bed and pushed down his back to the bed, applying pressure to his cut all the way with her jacket; she then grabbed at his legs and hoisted them up onto the bed.

If the guys had seen this, he would not have been able to live it down. "I could've done that Hermione. I'm not incapacitated."

"Perhaps, but you're not very smart either." She sat up on the bed right beside him and held the jumper down hard. "Hold this; I've just got to go get a few things okay. Don't fall asleep Oliver."

He saw her go and held down her jacket which was now all bloody. "How will I know not to fall asleep if I'm asleep?" The loss of blood made him dizzy, and his eyes began to shut.

"Oh no you don't," as soon as she'd left she returned with a bowel of water and some towels. She submerged one of the smaller ones in the water and put it on his face. She then grabbed another one, did the same and cleaned his wound. She looked into his eyes, surprised how intently they were looking at her and blushed. No doubt it was how he got all the ladies to fawn over him. Which reminded her…"So how was the conference Oliver?"

He groaned as she touched his cut, "boring as usual, although Rice, Ron and I did take a few detours."

"Ron was there?" she removed the towel and soaked it in the water, reapplying it.

"Yeah, Lavender had the babies: girls just like that little ring-thing she did said she would." He chuckled, "Ron lost a bet with her and now has to baby-sit the twins for two months."

She smiled, genuinely happy for them, but upset that she couldn't be there with them. "What did she call them? Because I doubt Ron had much say." She laughed.

"Molly-Rose and Daisy-Anne. Anne and Molly are Lavender's and Ron's mothers and Rose and daisy, her favourite flowers. Win-win I suppose."

"More for Lav I think. Which is good because if it were up to Ron, he'd name them Snitch and Cannon. He almost called his son Chuddly, like the Cannons, but Lav freaked out and called him Harrison"

She took out the pink bottle and poured the remaining syrup onto her hand. "This will close most of the wound- but I still have to stitch you up. If you move, it'll open, and I haven't got enough to reapply it. So then I'll be probing at your skin with the needle without the cream, which contains a numbing agent..." she noticed she was blabbing and stopped.

"Damn," he winced, and tried to look down at the cut, and sucked up a breath, which caused more blood loss. "Are the side-effects of that…"

Hermione shrugged, "dizziness, unconsciousness, inability to control yourself…" she smirked at is expression. "But it does heal you."

"Great!" he replied, oozing with sarcasm.

"Ye have so little faith," she sighed and spread the warm lubricant over his chest.

Oliver wondered what exactly that tingling sensation was: the syrup working on his injury or her fingers massaging him. Ultimately this would've suited his little side wager, very well. Quite well. But there was still some nagging feeling at the back of his mind that wouldn't let him enjoy it. "So what have you been up to?"

She ignored him and searched her bag for a needle and thread. He didn't miss the flush in her cheeks though and his jaw clenched. She and Krum didn't re-kindle their dying flame, did they? "Did you spend much time with my aunt?"

She could hardly tell him Krum had visited, nor could she discuss the details of their conversation. She set her mind on finding the needle. Once she found it she smiled in triumph, Oliver didn't see what was so amusing about it. "Don't worry, you won't feel a thing." She thread the string through the needle, and sent Oliver an amused look, "Normally there are spells you can use to do this much quicker, but I'm feeling rather vengeful. Now lie still."

"The ethics police will be after you," Oliver sighed and closed his eyes, preparing for the pain when the needle pierce his skin, there was nothing. "You're not bad with your hands." Did Krum know that?

She saw his eyes glaze, and smiled. "More than you'll ever know."

**…...**

"All I have to do now is bandage it." He heard her say, and as he lay on his back, she kneeling beside him; he didn't quite know how she as going to manage. She'd have to do some serious contorting to get the bandage over the other side.

He saw her unfold some of the thick material from its roll and began to wrap it around his chest, and under his back, but the fact he couldn't move to aid her didn't help the situation. She sent him an apologetic look as she leaned over him and slipped her hand underneath his back, searching for the damned roll of tape: unfortunately for her, she was having a damned hard time grabbing it.

Meanwhile he couldn't tear his gaze away from her shoulders; if getting injured meant this sort of attention, hell, he didn't mind a stab in the chest. The room was warm from the now-lit fire, or was it an oncoming infection? and he saw that she had changed into a singlet top and pyjama pants- that she had bought? From where?

She was struggling, she probably could have used her wand to bandage him, but he was perversely please she hadn't. Her chest brushing so close to his as she reached under his back to retrieve the other side of the tape, the soft curve of her stomach touching the now hard flesh at her waist.

The more she moved the harder he got and the more he wanted to haul her beneath him and take her battered and bruised. So he hauled himself up, much to the chagrin of the witch, so that now they were eye to eye, chest to chest.

"Oliver!" he heard her call. "I told you no sudden movements! Get down!"

So she wasn't bothered that she was half on top of him, Oliver thought relieved. He looked down at his taught stomach for the cut, but found there was nothing there, except the luscious woman brushed up against him.

Her eyes gave him a clear insight to what she was thinking: she flushed, but didn't struggle. "Honestly Wood, I could've managed with you lying on the bed."

"Well now you can manage me," his eyes penetrated her. In one fluid movement, he had pinned her to the bed, their positions reversed. He chuckled, "Or I can manage you."

Not waiting for a reply, he held bother her wrists in one hand above her head and further pushed his hips into hers on the bed. She bit her lip as his obvious erection brushed up against her and spread her legs to further accommodate him. He felt her heat as he slowly brushed a fingertip at the corners of her mouth, down her nose, down her neck; following the path with his tongue. He found she was braless as his hot mouth found her nipple through her top and slowly sucked and nibbled around the areola, taunting her before he brought his mouth to hers. Her mouth only too willingly opening under the force of his own. Strange. She was supposed to be resisting him; maybe his luck had changed and she decided not to fight it. He didn't ponder with it, and instead tasted all her with a desired hunger, probing his tongue with her own until he heard a moan in her throat.

He moved his lips down her throat, tasting and nipping at her carelessly. He felt her hand hold his head, encouraging him deeper, as she arched her back toward him. When had he released them?

He almost lost it as he touched the bare skin of her chest revealing an ivory breast. But he didn't remember taking it off. Gently tracing his tongue down towards its peak, he took her fullness into his mouth…he groaned as he felt her body heating up, and mimicked his hunger to her other breast, and felt himself straining, as her hand found him and squeezed: her open desire for him, almost too overwhelming, and slightly strange…suddenly he heard a noise…like the slamming of a cupboard.

And jolted up. Sweat poured off his face, from his …dream? Ah hell! It was just a dream. The bandages were already on. He groaned.

Hermione rushed to his room, mistaking his groan of disbelief for pain. As he heard her feet thundering toward him, he quickly threw a pillow over his obvious arousal; declaring revenge, only this time, it wouldn't be a dream.

She saw him glaring daggers at her, as her hands ran along his chest, checking for more intrusions. She was taken aback by the darkness of his eyes, and the heat radiating from his body. When she tried to remove the pillow in order to get a better observation, his hand sharply halted her.

"Are you okay?" she had a genuine look of concern on her face. From the look of it, his wounds had fully cleared thanks to the syrup. "You're flushed."

Damn her, he thought. "Possibly another side effect from your poison?" he sat up, quite easily, arranging the pillow more comfortably over his bottom half. Her eyes bright and her lips between her teeth, she was still now wearing a turtleneck, no nipple in sight.

Her brow furrowed. "Let's see, unconsciousness…yes you went out of it…self-control…" she glared at him, "minimal: so normal…I suppose arrogance would also fit into that category…" he barely listened to her, until the words, "hallucinations…illusions…" came sprawling out of her mouth.

Deciding it was best to keep her from the truth of his anger; he got up and shoved his arms back into his shirt. Probably not a good idea, since his chest was still saw, but that part of his anatomy wasn't what he was concerned about now. "How did you did the bandages on?" It would hurt to check…

"I charmed them on," she said confused.

Well damn. Ignoring her he stalked to the living room needing a drink. As he passed the coffee table he noticed the paper he'd thrown on it had disappeared. Hidden away perhaps from his prying eye?

His fingers clenched, "Did you happen to move the paper that was on the table? I remember dumping it here when I went to rescue your ass; much good it did me." The look he gave her told her he wasn't happy.

She gulped. She'd gotten a copy of the paper delivered to her today, no doubt by Krum or The Maggot and had seen the article featuring herself and Krum. If Oliver had seen it- no doubt he would not have been impressed, and so she'd thrown it in the fire, hoping to Merlin he'd forgotten about it. She was wrong.

"So where is it?" annoyance made way to ebb his arousal.

"What?"

"The paper." he stood and walked over to the glass cabinet where he poured himself a drink.

Shit. "You shouldn't be drinking that!" she stalked over to him and removed the scotch from his hand. "Medicine and alcohol don't mix."

Yanking the glass back from her hands, he took a long swig: because he bloody deserved it, and glared down at her. As he took a step towards her, she took one back. He sent her a menacing smirk and turned away, pouring himself another glass. For the sole purpose of distraction and an excuse to use in case he again lost control.

She simply stared at him, what the hell was wrong? She decided to change the subject. "Where's your aunt?"

"Home."

"Oh." She was alone with him.

"Yes '_oh_'." He mimicked and slumped in a chair. "There was crossword in it I wanted to do. I remember one of the clues; it was four down, four letters: someone who leads you to believe something that is not true…"

She was about to tell him she didn't know where it was, when she had realised what he had said. _Liar._ So he'd seen it, what was his problem! "What are you getting at Wood?"

He shrugged as he leaned back in the armchair and crossed his ankle over his knee. "Nothing, just that you're good with words, maybe you could help me?"

_You're good with words_… that son of a bitch. She stalked over to the kitchen to grab the _Prophet_ that Krum had brought over, "How interesting, I was going to get you to help me out with one too! 13 across, nine letters: a person who acts in contradiction to his or her stated beliefs or feelings. Got any idea?"

_Hypocrite._ He looked up at the article of him and the courtesan. So she had seen it. "Tony Blair?"

She hit him with the paper, "you're getting snippy with me for hanging around with Krum when you were gallivanting around with several lovers? You're a hypocrite."

She wanted to rip that brow that rose so condescendingly, so arrogantly on his face. It contradicted the flush of anger crawling within him. "The difference is that you were actually with Krum on your own accord and I was set up!"

"Oh that's rich, so this half naked woman just happened to find herself in your room and…" she took a breath, this was none of her business, but it still stung. Later when she had enough time to think, she would come to realise how odd the whole situation was; that it had been a Rita Skeeter article…that everything seemed a little too contrived. But now was not the time for reasoning; Oliver was acting like a possessive, arrogant ingrate and she did not need another one in her life. "And anyway if I were to date Krum again- which I am most definitely not- or any other man for that matter, it would not concern you at all!"

She was disgusting wrong about that. As long as he was in her life, he'd be the only man focussed in it. He was not going to let her play games. "Think again sweetheart; as long as you're with me, you're mine."

She pushed him back down as he stood, ignoring the ripple of delight at his words. She was pathetic. She suspected the mix of alcohol and medicine had something to do with his attitude. "Oh for heaven's sake Wood, I can only handle one overbearing beast at a time. He came over and wanted to keep me company; he thought I might need…things."

He shook his head. "So what a man asks you to do something with him and you automatically do it, except with me?" his body started to tense, his patience was waning.

"No, unlike you he gave me a choice," _well not really_. "He didn't just apparate me somewhere without my consent, as you did." Her eyes shot daggers at him as she lied.

"Oh well sorry for being hospitable, remind me to consult the cheater Krum when I want to improve my disposition." he muttered. Then he glared at her. "You didn't think it was suspicious that he showed up at my front door. Wanting to spend time with _you_?"

She rolled her eyes, "Surprisingly Wood, people do want to spend time with _me_. But yes, I thought it was a little odd, though since he knew the area and I needed clothes I figured I'd use him. I just didn't expect to be interrogated by reporters…" She sat on the armrest of his chair, not knowing why it was so important that he believe her. "Skeeter has had a grudge with me for years Wood, she'd do anything to try exploit me and mine…and this situation between the both of us-" she blushed, "-well what the public believes anyway, is the perfect opportunity to do so. I was a little taken aback by the photo of you in the paper, and now that I think of it, this whole thing wreaks of sabotage. It seems too coincidental; I just don't know why people are making such a big deal of it." She saw him relax a little with that admission, and she found she truly did believe it. He wasn't like that. Now to get him to believe her. "And there is no way I'd go out with Krum…again! I learned from my mistakes the first time Oliver and I'd never do it when I know you hate him and when you've been so good to me." She hadn't known she'd been holding his hand and quickly let go, distracting herself by picking up the paper and throwing it in recycling bin. When she came back the tension in the room had eased and they sat in silence for a few minutes.

She decided to break the tension, "So what's the verdict? Is the game still on? Hello?" she waved a hand in front of his face.

He shook from his reverie; she said she'd believe him. What a relief! He decided she was right, perhaps someone was after them, and he eased off about Krum. "What? Oh right yeah, it's still on. The board decided we were wizards for a reason so we should use magic to shield us." He shrugged, "No big surprises there, we're professionals after all. As for the other thing…"

She was looking right at him, knowing what was coming. Convincing herself that she didn't care. 'Hmm?"

He was looking at her intently now, watching for a flicker of emotion. "The article you do believe it's a load of crap…"

She butted in, she didn't want to talk about it, "it's none of my business what you do or who you see Oliver; you don't have to explain anything to me. But in this case yes, I believe you."

"So you had no reaction when you read it?"

She shrugged but her jaw was clenched, "At first I figured it was a typical Wood thing to do, nothing out of the ordinary."

_Nothing out of the ordinary? _"You think I do this on a weekly- not scrap that, daily basis? Your opinion of me is outstandingly poor…"

Had she hit a nerve? She smiled to herself, good. "It took an angry, over-bearing male to get me to realise that maybe I judged him too soon but I mean you must admit, history seems to be repeating itself doesn't it? You're seen with a different woman every week, why shouldn't it surprise me?"

_Because damn her, for the moment he wanted her! _He dismissed the notion as soon as he'd thought it, annoyed and embarrassed for thinking it.

"Anyway, it seems we've both forgiven each other," she smiled at him and playfully punched his shoulder, changing the subject. "What's for dinner?"

He gripped her arm as she began to rise. It wasn't at all gentle. "Do you believe it Hermione?"

She furrowed her brow and glanced at the arm tightly holding her grip. Why wouldn't he drop it? "I told you I don't, and I know that generally you're not a violent person," she looked at his hand on her arm, "at least I'm pretty sure you're not."

Realising what he was doing he let go of her as if he'd been zapped. "None of it's true, she was in my room when I came back from the bar with Ron and Bobby. She's an, er, old friend and said I had called her for a rendezvous. I hadn't. She wouldn't get out so I picked her up and removed her…when I opened the door there were reporters, as if they knew…bloody hell. Next minute I know I'm on the front of every paper…"

She could tell he was getting angrier by the minute so she put up a hand to stop him. "It's ok Oliver, I believe you-"

He couldn't take it; did she really believe him or was this some sort of game she was playing? Could he trust her? He really wanted her to know there was something more to him than looks, money and sexuality. He wanted her trust. He wanted her. She looked so soft and welcoming in front of him, he lost control: knowing full well that this wasn't a dream. With a growl, he yanked her on top of him on the armchair, so she was straddling him and pulled her face towards his.

Hermione couldn't believe it; the innate look of longing and heat in his eyes had caused a tumultuous ramble of emotions churn within her. Her stomach did flips and she felt shivers cascading through her body in anticipation; he hadn't even kissed her yet. She was surprised however when his lips missed her mouth and moved to her ear. She shivered at his words.

"Are you sure…" he couldn't help nipping at her ear and ran his fingertips up her thighs. He continued to nuzzle her neck with his mouth; lightly kissing his was up to her mouth smiling, as she gave him better access to it.

She closed her eyes, if he was trying to seduce some authenticity out of her, well, she'd let him, but just this once. She wanted to feel his mouth on her lips, her neck, his hands caressing her body; hear him whisper dirty nothings in her ear as he slowly removed her clothes…but then common sense he damned pride got the better of her; there was a wager to be won! On opening, she saw the desire in his eyes, knowing full well that they reciprocated her own; they were on dangerous ground. "I think the medicine is getting to you Oliver." She said quietly; because if he did make a move on her, she wouldn't be able to stop herself.

"I think you know the answer to that," he gave her a frustratingly unsatisfying peck on the lips and let her go.

Hermione shakily removed herself from his lap and felt a pang of confusion and longing she'd never experienced before. She hated fighting herself about what she wanted and what was right; the choices she made and those she let slip. She helped him up, ordered him to get some sleep helped him to his bed in silence. She turned from him, heading toward her room needing to get away and think; she wiped an angry tear away before it could fall. She laughed helplessly at herself, why the hell was she crying? Complete uselessness, her stupid conscious said, so she knocked that bastard off her shoulder. Before she left him, his husky voice trailed from the bed.

She turned to the handsome man, "Yes?"

"In my bag, there's an enchanted card for you…" he told her the spell and she left him, with a solid shut of the door.

Getting the pink card out his bag, Hermione wondered what was so bloody important about it. Muttering the spell, she wasn't prepared for the bright light blasted from the card.

She then saw a figure, and scrunching her eyes recognised it as Lavender. "Oh!" she sighed in delight. She recognised it as the maternity ward at St. Mungo's. Ron was there too, with Oliver and Bobby…and she smiled, the baby girls were there too.

"Hello Hermione!" Ron had shouted, earning a scold from annoyed Lavender who had just put the girls to sleep. "Oh right…"

"Ignore that idiot, Hermione! We just thought we'd say hello and tell you about the good news!" she had then drawled on about the birth and the details only a woman would appreciate: which in turn, produced disturbed mutterings from the three men who probably could've done without the information. "Well you try delivering twins!" she had yelled at them. "Twenty stitches Hermione! I feel like turkey!"

Hermione laughed at Ron's suddenly pale face; as he took the limelight away from his wife. He lifted a bandaged hand. "A violent turkey." He then smiled at her, "I hope you're well Hermione; just enjoy the break you need it." He then turned to Oliver, "I'm sure he's taking good care of you, but if he's not I'll fix him up when the Floo network is back in operation," he raised his brows suggestively. She blushed, and didn't miss the surprised expression on Oliver's usually unreadable face.

Hermione smiled, the fifteen minutes in which she saw Ron and his girls cheered her up immensely, knowing they were doing well made her day. Thinking the "video" was finished she placed it on the table, ready to go to Oliver and thank him. Then she heard a voice…or rather a barrage of voices.

"DOC!" six little voices thundered from the card. She quickly picked it up to see all her little patients, well and cheery as they battled for the limelight.

"Oi!" Dom's thunderous voice boomed. "Important people first!" he then sent her a wide Cheshire smile. "Stuck in a house with a gorgeous man for a month! My, don't you have it hard," he whispered so the children didn't hear. She set a reminder to hex him when she returned. "Sweetie, we're all well here, seriously….." he then droned on about the statistics and latest news about each of her patients. "Oliver and Bobby surprised us though. Stayed a while with all the kids and their folks, chatting and playing games with them…" Hermione was surprised to say the least; sacrificing his Quidditch to see some sick children in St. Mungo's…it even harder for her to remain indifferent to him.

"Poor Mrs. Fletcher was about to have a coronary when she saw Oliver, you know how much she loves the man. And when he smiled at her…I think it was half an hour before her palpitations eased. I had to give her a shot."

Hermione laughed at his bitching for the next ten minutes. Then her patients forced their way through. "Hallo Doc! When are you coming back! Nurse Dom is saying he's our doctor now…Doc I'm scared!"

"Doc, can you tell Jayden to stop pulling my hair," said Cassandra and then left.

"Don't listen to her," it was Jayden turn. He was in bandages and on a drip. Her heart went out to him. "Doc, can you marry Oliver Wood so he can visit us again?" she scoffed with laughter and heard another voice behind her chuckling away.

Oliver Wood stood, leaning against the doorway delightfully shirtless. His arms were folded and he was looking at her intently. She felt herself heat up at his glance. She smiled at him and turned to the card again.

"Doc, do you know where my Lala Teletubby is? I think Jayden stole it. Can you tell him to give it back?"

"I got a puppy!" said Charlie. "I named him Dom."

Hermione laughed at that, and saw Dom behind the kid making a strangling gesture. And so Hermione continued to watch for the next ten minutes, laughing and overly emotional in seeing her little family safe and sound. It eased her to know they were doing alright, though she still missed them terrible; it may give her a chance to settle calmly in Ireland for a while…Yeah right, not with the man behind her.

"We miss you Doc! Have a good holiday!" the card closed with their waves and well wishes. She smiled, wiping the tears from her eyes. She put a hand to her mouth, and glanced up at Oliver, who was at the doorway, with that same sensual gaze that made her shiver inside.

He had done that for her. More tears of happiness and confusion left her eyes and she hurriedly rid them. Damn Wood, she thought with a slight laugh, he really was making it too hard for her.

His eyes never left hers and she walked up to him. She really was beautiful, he thought, even at her most vulnerable. Especially then. She smiled widely at him and continued to wipe her eyes.

Though knowing he was injured, she grabbed him in a tight hug, wrapping her arms around his neck and resting her head on his chest.

She felt and looked so small and delicate in his arms, her head just reaching his shoulders. He brought his arms around her waist, resting his hands on her full hips and putting his chin gently on her head.

"Thank you." She kept muttering, over and over; her warm tears running down his chest. Neither of them let go, and it was a while before Hermione realised this. Reluctantly she let go of his shoulders and looked up at him; unaware of the proximity of his face to hers and accidentally brushing her lips with his own.

The jolt forced her back, and laughing she disguised her shock by wiping the remaining tears from her eyes. "Oh well," she chuckled, now wiping her face for no reason. Get away her conscious said. Hadn't she knocked that bastard off her shoulder? "Oliver I…I don't know what to say! You didn't have to…but oh, it was so good to hear them!" she blabbed. "I don't know how to thank you…"

He smiled at her, "I'm sure I can think of a way," he ducked a pillow to the head and laughed, turning back toward his room.

* * *

**_SS_**


	8. Wanted

_Note:_

_The response for this chapter will be interesting I think; the cynic in me is looking forward to it, the cautious not so much. It's probably not something you should read in one sitting…but meh… I'm glad that so many have reviewed and have enjoyed this story so far, but I don't reply to them. Any info, like "when is the next update", or snippets of the next chapter are all on my profile. So here it is._

_This chapter deals with the physical, and the inevitable attraction/tension between the characters. So in some ways there's **a lot** of it, but I don't think I go into too much detail until the end. But as a warning fluff haters beware._

_Whether it lives up to your expectations is up to you, I hope I've done it justice, but the longer the story goes on, the more exhausted I get. There are about 2 chapters to go and they'll **hopefully** be done by early August. I have my mid-year break so I can spend time on finishing it._

_I'm thinking of doing a poll about who you think resembles the characters of Hermione and Oliver, in the matter of looks- just for kicks. If you have any suggestions let me know! :P_

SouredSweetie

* * *

**The Playboy's Pursuit**

CHAPTER 8

_Wanted_

_"You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you might find, you get what you need"_

* * *

"Just a bit more..."

"Oliver, it won't fit," Hermione sighed, exasperated.

"Of course it will, I just have to push it in a little harder..."

"It won't work! Mine's a lot narrower. Look how thick your nub is!"

"I wish you'd talk like this more often," Oliver muttered. "Keep going."

"Oh shut up. It's too big and wont fit in the tiny hole!"

"Hermione the bigger the better, believe me."

Hermione glared at the man across from her. "Now, why do I think you've used that line before?"

The wink he gave her had the annoying affect of amusing her, and the smirk was almost her undoing. She looked down at the misshaped pieces and rolling her eyes, undid it. "You're a cheat Wood."

He had the audacity to look offended. "Love, I would prefer to fail with honour than to win by cheating."

"You know you almost said that with enough integrity for me to believe you," she looked up to see his smile widen, his dimples showing. "Let's not forget about yesterday when we were playing Scrabble. How many words did you make up then?"

"Assmosis is a word."

"It's _Os_mosis, which is the diffusion of water through a semi permeable membrane-"

"Yeah, and _Assmosis_ is the process by which people suck up the bosses arse in order to succeed."

"What about pooty, kaka, schticken...tyrotoxism?"

"Hey, tyrotoxism is a word. My uncle was poisoned by cheese, nasty stuff," she merely raised a brow. "Gah woman! Where's your sense of adventure?"

"The idea of doing a puzzle is to make an image with the pieces fitting nicely-"

They'd been at the puzzle all morning and his neck was tense. Heck, just being around her made him tense. He massaged the back of his neck, "I didn't hear any complaints, in fact I bet it liked the friction."

"You're talking about cardboard Wood," Hermione stood, raising her arms over her head, stretching after an hour and a half of torture. No more of those 'impossible' puzzles for her, she'd either end up insane or with a hernia.

"Even so it can get hard," like hell he was, ogling the smooth skin visible by her raised jumper.

Hermione ignored the sexist jibe with a 'humph!' and walked up the landing toward the kitchen to make some hot chocolate. Though at the moment she needed ice to cool down.

Oliver followed behind her and sat on the island seat. He found he liked her there, in his kitchen, in his house, no doubt the bed would follow, once he got her in there of course.

She looked his way, her cheeks heating as she found him staring at her. There was no doubt what was going on through his mind, it was the same as hers. "Er- one sugar right?"

"Yeah thanks," she hadn't even needed to ask whether he wanted chocolate or coffee, he noted, as she had already taken out the coffee jar. Where she was sweet, he was bitter. Who knows, maybe one day they would compromise and invest in mocha. He scoffed, compromise with her? That was a laugh.

Lost in thought, he barely heard her say, "here" a few minutes later as she handed over his coffee and in his favourite mug; shaped like a Quaffle, it kept his beverages constantly hot.

"Perfect," he sighed, taking a sip. Opposite him Hermione sat smiling. They sat in silence for a while, drinking their coffee, simply enjoying each others company. Hermione spoke up as Oliver moved behind her to wash his now-empty mug.

"So what have you got planned for today?" she too stood and headed over to the sink.

"Well..." his eyes shifted over to the bedroom, before coming back to her face. She didn't look too impressed, but was that a blush staining her cheeks? "Oh alright I figure you'll want something harder for our first time. How's the bench top?" Without waiting for her reprimand he grabbed her under the shoulders and hauled her up on the counter, setting himself between her thighs.

"Wood!" she cried, clutching onto the edge of the counter. She tensed her body until she realised she was pulling him closer to her with her legs; his face was scant centimetres from her own.

"No marble actually," he kept his eyes with her as he brought his hands under her jumper to wrap around her thin, bare waist. His hands were cold against her warm skin and her body shivered in response.

Slowly he lowered his hands to her backside, and hauled her against him hard, firmly securing her with his hands as his fingertips ever so damningly slowly trailed up her sides, just below her breasts before tracing light circles all the way down again.

It seemed all he had to do was touch her and she burned up. She grabbed at his hands intending to move them away, but instead found them moving along her body with his, down along her thighs and back up, cupping her breasts over his hands.

"You know it's inevitable Hermione," he leaned close her, nuzzling her ear.

She released his hands and brought her own up to his shoulders, holding on tight as she felt him trail his soft lips down her neck. "So, we're both adults, we can withstand temptation-" she lost her trail of thought as his hands rubbed and pinched at her breast through her bra, bringing her nipples to aching peaks. When he ran his tongue along her bare clavicle, she pulled him closer with her legs.

"Good, so you don't deny you want me?" He nipped her neck, his hands finding their way below her jumper.

She jerked against him in surprise as his hands melded themselves to her bare breasts. When the hell had he taken it off? "It's not about-"

"You know something?" his pinched her nipple with his thumb and forefinger, "I've touched you, but I've never kissed you." W_hile you were awake_, that is…

"Well-" he cut her off with his mouth, touching her softly at first, allowing her to initiate the next move. He moved one hand to cup her face, while the other secured itself at her waist. She jolted as she felt his tongue tickling at her lower lip as he ran his tongue along it, questioning, urging her on.

Between his roving hands, his probing tongue and the cool air on her barely concealed chest Hermione was slowly spinning into a delirium where she had no control. She brought both hands to his head and pulled him closer, her soft body flush against his hard one, her tongue now clashing against his own.

He groaned when she started to respond to his kiss. Damn it, he knew he was being harsh, but he'd waited over two weeks for her, waiting to touch her; wanting to know if she wanted him as much as he wanted her. When her hands brushed down his back to grip at his backside, he knew his control was diminishing. Daring to take the risk, he moved his hands down to cup her.

When she felt his fingers starting to undo the button on he jeans, she froze. This was going too fast. She needed time to think. She needed to…stop making excuses. But damn it, this was Oliver Wood. He'd forget her in the morning, and wouldn't that be awkward since she was stuck here with him for a few more weeks. No, it would make things too difficult. This time when she grabbed his hands, she did pull them away.

Tearing her lips from his, she gasped, "No…no Oliver. We should stop."

He knew what was coming when he felt for her zipper. She was so predictable; he knew when her mind kicked in over her body. He'd just have to distract her more next time. And there would bloody well be a next time.

"You sure don't sound convinced," he wanted her but he'd never take a woman without her consent. "But next time, I won't be so lenient," with a last flick of his tongue and a gentle nip on her earlobe he released her and moved away.

She was hot, she was tense and she wanted to haul him back over to her, spread her legs and let him take her right there. Instead she adjusted her top, blew her fringe out of her eyes and stared into oblivion.

The opening door broke her reverie, as Oliver began to step out, changed in boots and a thick jacket. It was as if he hadn't been affected by the make-out session at all. But of course not, she was just another notch on his belt. Instead of angering her, she felt sad. "Where are you going?" she didn't recognise her own voice, it was so hoarse.

Oliver shrugged, but the sooner he was away from her the better. "Gonna go restock the wood for the fireplace…"

Hermione looked out of the window, the blue sky and settled winds were an illusion for what she knew was to come. "Can't you just charm a fire?"

Did she know how innocent she looked with her brow furrowed, biting her lip? He had to get out. He clucked his tongue, "I don' mind doing a couple of Muggle chores every now and again. And besides," his eyes twinkled, "You can never have to much _wood_."

He closed the door before she could find something to hurl at him. Snorting at the sheer impertinence of the man, she washed her mug and with a last hesitant look out the window, walked toward the living room, picked up a book and started reading.

It was after ten minutes that she realised she hadn't a clue what the book was about.

Thoughts of what she and Oliver could be doing were clouding her mind.

* * *

He probably shouldn't have hauled her so close to him, he noted as an after thought: partly because he was still bruised from the other days 'adventure' and because he'd probably scared her away.

Well too bloody bad! He didn't feel her pulling away, so he knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her. So what was the problem?

He released his anger on a pile of wood that he was slaughtering with his axe. Each time he thought of what he could've been doing, he hit it harder. And harder.

He had no idea how long he'd been outside, but the temperature had dropped significantly. He'd been sweating only moments before in his jeans and jacket, and now the cold ripped through him. It was time to head in and face Hermione. His mouth twisted cynically, who'd have thought he'd afraid of a woman-, well his demanding response to her anyway.

He threw the axe down into the snow and took out his wand from his bomber jacket, levitating the pile of wood toward his house. It was a fair distance, but he'd performed it so many times, he knew exactly where to direct his wand without moving his body. Muttering a spell, his clothes instantly warmed and he started his way slowly, so incredibly slowly, to the house.

"You're pathetic you stupid bastard," he muttered to himself. "What could she possibly do? She's half your bloody size; she could barely-" he heard a rustling in the trees to the side of him. Was that a figure hiding amongst the shrubs?

Frowning, wand at his side, he approached the thick patch of shrubbery that led to the bush. Tightening his wand he peered over and through. Nothing.

He didn't know whether to be relieved or worried, but he knew his own abilities as an athlete and knew what he saw. Another rustle, so faint it could've been mistaken for the wind, he turned toward it. He had great hearing. When he'd first started playing

Quidditch, his coach had blind folded him during training, forcing him to rely on his other senses to catch the Quaffle; the skill had helped him play during bad conditions, but damn did he get belted early on.

Oliver hurried toward the sound, this time louder and faster. He could clearly see footprints on the snow that led toward his house and his first thought was Hermione. Before he made an arse of himself, he checked they weren't his. Too small to be a mans… and hell, he hadn't come this way.

Running now he followed the imprints but they had suddenly stopped amongst the trees. He looked up nothing. Unless it was a frigging monkey with huge fucking feet, the bastard had vanished. He'd look into this and when he found the bastard who trespassed on his property and endangered his and his own he was going to pound them senseless. Media be damned.

About to head toward the house, he saw it. Small and dark, the figure was crouched and walking slowly. How the hell had it gotten over there? Sneaking around to get ahead of the figure, Oliver hid amongst the trees and waited until he approached.

He pounced.

"Oomph!" the figure cried as Oliver tackled them bottom first to the ground. They rolled together, battling to come out on top; but Oliver was far larger and stronger, holding down the intruder with his arm against their clavicle.

"What the hell do you think you're doing sneaking around my property?!" Oliver yelled, but couldn't see the figures face, hidden beneath a hood.

But the figure hadn't heard him, nor had they seen him, too busy withering their smaller body against his harder one. Unsuccessful and cursing, the intruder grabbed at a pile of sticks and poked the larger figure in the side.

"Christ!" The momentary pain had Oliver cursing and clutching his side, allowing the panting figure to try and crawl away. "Not so fast you bastard." Holding his throbbing side he grabbed hold of the escapee's ankle and tugged hard, causing them to fall to the ground, aimlessly kicking at Oliver.

"Let go of me you murderous delinquent!" a familiar voice cursed at him and before he could acknowledge her, Hermione had escaped his hold by kicking at his lower abs and he fell to the ground.

"Hermione!" he swore, but she either hadn't heard him or chose not to, and leapt onto his back and flung her arm around his neck, choking him.

"Thought I was going go be an easy target did you?" She was too mad and scared to do anything else. She wanted to call out to Oliver but she was so high on anger and adrenalin she fought back instead.

"Damn it woman!" Oliver choked and using his strength grabbed at her arm and lifted them both. Her legs instantly straddled him from behind and dug her boots into his crutch. "Fucking hell!" he gritted. There was no way to calm the hellcat and pissed off beyond belief he bent down and flipped her over his head and right onto the snow-covered ground.

Hermione was momentarily stunned as she lay huffing and puffing on her back. Now she was in trouble, how had the S.O.B. done that? She glared at the hooded figure who was bent and clutching his gut. Seeing her opportunity to escape she started to rise but the man- or freaking giant of a woman- beat her to it and straddled her to the ground.

"Oh no you don't!" She tried twisting her lower body free, but her legs were caught in between his. She was trapped, what the hell happened now? She had to think, so she used her head.

Oliver flung his head back just in time to miss what would have been an incredibly painful butt to the head. He knew she'd put all her thought into it. "Hell and damnation Granger!" Oliver cursed and thrust down his hips to hers in order to stop her moving. It was driving him mad.

Hermione stopped her assault, recognising the angry voice coming from the now hood-less face. "Oliver?" Her eyes narrowed and she punched him in the gut.

"Oomph! What the hell was that for?"

"That was for throwing me onto the ground!"

"You're the one who almost dismembered me you little harlot!"

Her eyes widened, and her cheeks fumed. "You bastard!" he saw her hands were going to go lower so he grabbed them, and hauled her up so they were face to face. He had a feeling that even if he tied her with steel the witch would Houdini her way out of it.

"Settle down, for Merlin's sake," he held her hands in a killer grip behind her back with one of his own, while the other held her head. She was most dangerous when she used her head.

"Settle down!" she blared, "You're the one mauling me, a poor, defenceless woman..." she couldn't wriggle out of his iron hold.

He raised a dark brown, "Defenceless my arse, sweetheart. Stop fidgeting." He brought her flush against his bruised chest.

"Well get you're fat arse off me, you're crushing my legs."

"Well maybe if you'd stop trying to decapitate me with that thick head of yours, or stop trying to slice me with those claws you call nails I would."

"Claws! Excuse me barge arse, you flipped me like I was a frigging pancake. I could've broken my back."

"So you're head would still be alright. That's the problem," he didn't know how she did it, but what must've been anger she reversed their positions, mimicking his earlier move and held an elbow at his neck. "Oh well done, should I now stab you with a stick?"

"Hardly a stick, more like a twig. Woah!" he reversed their positions.

"Twig my barged arse. Not too mention I think I lost my balls..." He let her change their position. The side of him that wasn't annoyed or aroused found the whole situation incredibly amusing. Who'd have thought this little shrimp of a woman had the spirit of a tiger.

She sent him a sweet smile, "I don't think we have enough time to look for such small things."

He sat up, taking her with him. "Your words wound me more that your talons ever could."

"You started it."

Dark eyes flashed at the other, both chests clashing as they tried to settle their raging heartbeats. There'd be bruises tomorrow. They knew that and what as coming. It was inevitable.

"And I'll finish it."

She wasn't surprised when his cool lips touched hers; wasn't surprised to find that she held him closer and responded; wasn't surprised when she took over. She opened herself to him, pulling his body toward her with her thighs, his head closer with her hands. Hermione ran her tongue along his lower lip and gently bit at it, with each nip rubbing her hips along his.

Slowly she continued the pattern, sucking, nipping, thrusting until he decided he'd had enough and took over, plunging his tongue into the sweet cavern in her mouth, spurred on when she moaned as he sucked her tongue.

Well this was new to her. She'd never took charge, well, rather, she'd never needed enough to want to. She'd been restless all day since the interlude in the kitchen and wanted release.

She was driving him mad with her roaming hands and clenching thighs. She could've been dressed like a fucking Eskimo and he'd still get off. He didn't like the feeling of wanting her so much, wanting meant needing. And that was a dangerous thing. But he didn't stop, instead unzipping her thick jacket and following the newly exposed skin with open-mouthed kisses.

"God Oliver," Hermione gasped and arched toward his roving kisses. She clutched his head closer, leading his mouth toward the two aching mounds on her chest.

Before he pushed her onto the ground and tore away her shirt, he came to his sense.

He hated when that happened. Goosebumps formed on her creamy skin, aided by his wet kisses and the falling snow. He hadn't even noticed it started snowing. "Shit Hermione, we've got to stop."

She couldn't feel anything; maybe that was the problem. She was numb from the cold and from his body on hers.

"What?" She brought his mouth to hers and sucked hard.

Oliver searched for control as she continued her assault along his jaw. "It's starting to snow. Look you're freezing."

"So warm me up," he sighed in pure denial when she took his earlobe in her mouth. "Do you hear me complaining?"

"No," he breathed, "That's the problem." God her hands were moving lower. "I- I think someone was out here."

That brought her up short. Still puffing she breathed, "What? Who?"

He looked at her. Her hair dishevelled, her lips swollen from his kisses and her cheeks flushed. Merlin, he wanted her.

"Who was out here Oliver?"

Reigning in his body, he sighed. "I'll tell you when we're inside. Come on." He rose off her and held out a hand to help her up. Zipping up her jacket with shaky fingers,

she took his hand and struggled to stand.

"Woah!" She would've fallen on her arse, but Oliver held on tight. "Thanks." She tried to take a step, but soon found herself in the snow again.

Oliver folded his arms and stared down at her. "I suppose this sad display in my fault too?"

She was tired, embarrassed and, damn it all, horny; and the handsome son of a bitch just stood there, acting as if they hadn't had a snog-a-thon in the snow. Now she was pissed off. "Yes! If your hulk of a body hadn't held my legs prisoner I might've been able to get up."

He rolled his eyes and left her on the ground and started off. He heard her cursing and struggling to stand, and chuckled to himself.

She watched him slowly make his way up the hill. She was stuck in the bushes and was going to die of hypothermia. "All your fault!" she mumbled.

He heard her, as faint as it was and knowing she was too stubborn to ask for assistance went back to help, ignored her glare. "As I recall, my sweet, it was your thighs wrapped around my 'fat arse' so-"

"Okay, okay!" flushed and embarrassed, she sat on her knees feeling pins and needles painfully pierce her. She was really getting annoyed at that dimpled smirk he gave her whenever he was right, or thought he was. She ignored his hand and managed to stand, and take a few steps forward.

It didn't take her long to fall. "Such language." Oliver sighed and ignoring her, "go to hell" in one motion threw her over his shoulder. "Jeez woman, You're heavy. Where do you pack it in that little body."

"Shut up and put me down!" She punched his back.

"I'm a man, I can only handle on thing at a time." She shrieked as he pinched the top of her thigh. "Ah here it's at."

Hermione smacked the back of his head, verbally promising him that she would kill him for this new bout of humiliation. "So I'm hippy-"

He smacked her bottom, "And what a lovely arse you have, my dear."

He carried her in silence still looking out for an intruder. Was it Hermione he'd chased or someone else? She meanwhile was glaring at the snow beneath her. "This is humiliating you know."

His grip on her thighs tightened as he stepped over a fallen log. "It could be even worse if you fall head first into the snow if you don't stop fidgeting." The house was in sight.

She was silent for a few minutes- a miracle in itself- when she spoke up. "You know, I don't know if it's the blood rushing to my head, but you have a nice bush-backyard Oliver."

Oliver almost dropped her. "You've been staring at my garden the past five minutes?"

"Well it was wither that or your pudendum and I thought the shrubbery would be more convenient."

He put her down when he reached the door. "You know a lot of women would kill to get a study of my arse. You were close enough to make a full report." He held her still as she righted herself.

"Well I'm not most women," and whipping out her wand, unlocked the safety spells she'd put on and strode inside. What a quick recovery he mused.

His smirk faded. Footprints, leading to his windows, away from his doors. He called to Hermione, "When you came to look for me did you come around the windows?"

"No," she called from the bedroom. She hurriedly changed into another jacket as her other one was wet form the snow and ran outside. "I thought they were yours, so I followed them toward you...I saw them come back and then nothing. It just stopped."

"Go inside Hermione and lock the doors."

"Pfft, oh come on Wood, I'm not a child I can take care of myself!" she said, hands on hips.

He didn't need this stubborn display of independence from her, he was tired, bruised and just wanted her cooperation for once. "Just do it alright. I know this area better than you do," his brown eyes shot to hers. "No don't argue with me."

"Well it wouldn't be a Muggle now would it? If they were strong enough to get passed the barriers of your land, what would stop them from entering the house?" She whipped out her wand, "Now if you don't mind-"

Quick as a flash he snatched the wand from her hands and used his size against her. "I don't care what you've accomplished in the past. This is my house and you're in it. That makes you mine too. And I protect what's mine."

She broke her eyes contact with him and subconsciously rubbed at the goose bumps on her arms. "I don't belong to anybody."

"I'm not anybody," he gave her wand back and headed out. "Look, just stay here. Please?"

It was the please that did it. Reluctantly she turned toward the house and slammed the door.

Not that he didn't trust her, but he charmed the house from the outside with the strongest spells he knew.

And when it came to protection he knew; with the fans he had, it was wise to know the best. She was capable enough to unlock the guards. He just hoped he was back in time before she did.

* * *

For the second time that day she was sitting alone, waiting for Oliver to get back. The first time around he'd been gone for four hours, within which she'd showered, read and marinated some meat for dinner. But it had been lighter then with no snowfall.

Now the bastard had locked her in and the protection spell he'd sneakily added was too complicated to unlock inside of an hour. In frustration she'd gone and peeled- slaughtered- some potatoes.

5.30pm, the potatoes were peeled, in a dish with some salt, bacon and cream and placed in the oven. They'd be an hour. He'd been gone that long too.

Where the hell was the asshole? It'd serve him right if he'd been attacked and eaten by wild animals; she'd offer them a side dish of cream potatoes and salad. Didn't he know she was sick of waiting for him. Him! A man. What was she doing to herself; and not just with any man, Oliver- frigging- Wood, playboy extraordinaire, tall, tanned, muscled and stubbled…damn it. When he got back she would give him a razor, shove junk food into his mouth and cut off his legs- but it was no point.

She'd caught the Wood disease and was terminally attracted to the man. It was only matter of time before she'd need to treat it. That was of course if he wanted it too, because he sure as hell didn't seem overly affected by their make out sessions.

She poured herself a glass of white wine and sat at the kitchen bench staring at the window. And waited.

She'd been so lost in thought, she jumped when two hands came around her waist and a stubbled cheek nuzzled her neck.

"You scarred me Wood! Merlin please be Wood, it has to be Wood. He's the only one with a carpet growing on his face," she teased, trying to distract herself from his arms around her. It felt good. It felt nice. She wasn't used to male affection, most tried to hide it. Unless of course they wanted something from it.

He kissed her neck and took a sip of her wine. "Cruel Granger. I've been standing here for the past five minutes watching you stare out the window, ignoring me. You're damaging my ego."

Taking the glass out of his hands, she took a sip. "I'm sure there's enough of it to go around."

He rolled his eyes and sent her that damned dimpled smirk as he filled his own glass and refilled hers.

"So what did you find?"

"Footprints. You're sure you didn't go further in the bushes?"

"Yes, I was following what I thought were your prints and then they suddenly stopped at the edge of the shrubs. Then of course you mauled me-"

"Pfft, who mauled who? Anyway," he quickly added before she started an argument, "the prints that were around the windows followed down to were I was working and then, as you said came back up and just disappeared."

"A wizard then?"

Oliver shrugged, "Most probably. Maybe an Animagus, or they flew out, or apparated or had an invisibility cloak and just stood there waiting for us to go…who knows?"

Subconsciously she rubbed the back of her neck. That would mean they saw them- oh hell. "I doubt they had an invisibility cloak, we'd be able to sense them."

Oliver took another gulp, "Doesn't matter the how's it's the 'whys'. They were on my property. If they wanted to visit they should've rung the door bell, not come down to watch."

He could've been in danger, who knows what sort of sicko's there were out there, and with Oliver as a famous sports star, there'd be plenty.

"Next time I'll be ready though," he added and moved toward the sink. "See you've started dinner already."

"What? Oh," her mind had wandered. "Yes, salad, creamy potatoes and sticky chicken."

"Sticky chicken?"

She ignored his expression. "Yes, you'll see. And you'll have a wonderful time cleaning it up too. The potatoes will be done in half an hour, I may as well start on the meat now."

"Okay, I'm just gonna go and shower."

Twenty minutes later he'd emerged from the bathroom, watching Hermione hum a tune from the radio and set the table. "Here let me do that."

"Lucky I stopped dancing or I may've been embarrassed," she let him take the plates and went to bring the food to the table.

"You never cease to surprise or amaze me Hermione. Would've thought you knew how to cook." Damn the chicken was sticky, sticky but tasty.

"You're faith in me is doing wonders to my self-esteem," she took a bite out of her potatoes and swallowed before talking. "I wasn't lying to your mother when I said my own wanted me to know how to do the expected womanly chores." She rolled her eyes. "But then I suppose there's nothing bad in knowing how to cook, sure beats a fire."

He watched her over the rim of his glass. She seemed to close in. "You don't agree with these 'womanly chores'?"

"Well, it's good to know how to cook, and sew, and potter and whatever; but that doesn't mean I have to do them because I'm woman; I'd rather know it for myself," she paused, a wry smile twisting her mouth. "My mother created me with the necessities for a woman raising a family that I will undoubtedly never have."

That made him pause. "Oh, no bairns for you Granger?"

She shook her head. "I'm too busy to even think of having a family, let alone raising children. I'm with them everyday, that's enough for me." She didn't add how she was afraid. Afraid of being a terrible mother, afraid of having her child suffer with what she had to treat everyday. The parents were so strong, so wonderful…Did that make her selfish? Did that make her weak? Or did the fear of the unknown make her human?

"Having a child of your own is different than looking after another's." He added.

"Perhaps, I suppose you can only know if you have your own, you know to compare."

"Mm," was all he said.

If there was tension, she was adamant to get to the bottom of it. "I suppose you want children then?"

He didn't know anymore. At one stage he did, to have a part of him live, to raise, to teach Quidditch in the yard... But like all good things, they can be taken away too. "Why not, a whole Quidditch team I think. I'd name them Seeker, Keeper, Beater Snr, Beater Jnr…."

"Ha, ha Oliver," she rolled her eyes.

They sat in silence, listening to the radio in the background. She really hated breaks, but one commercial brought her up short.

"It's Christmas in three weeks!"

Lord he hated Christmas. It was too painful. "Well done, you're like one of those detectives on CSI."

She sent him a glare. "You don't even have a tree!"

Hadn't in five years. "Nope." He stuffed his mouth with salad.

"Shame on you Wood, but you have one in London don't you?" her mouth fell open when he shook his head. "That's it, we're going out to get one tomorrow!"

He swallowed hard. "It's just a tree, I'll go cut one from the bush."

She rolled her eyes. "It's not the same. No, we have to get an actual tree, plastic or real, with lights and baubles…ooh! and stockings-"

"Yours will be enough to fill."

No chauvinistic remark could take the light out of her eyes when she had an idea. "You won't be climbing those ladders anytime soon with that attitude."

Despite himself, he laughed. She was quick with a comeback he'd give her that. And she looked so eager and enthusiastic, despite his bitterness toward the holiday, he couldn't take it away from her. She loved Christmas and she probably wouldn't be able to spend it with her family this year…ah hell. He was getting soft.

"If it means that much to you, then we'll get one.,"

She rolled her eyes and started clearing the table as they'd finished eating through there conversation. "Thank you father, can I get a pony too?"

Heaven give him strength, "That's not what I meant."

"I know Oliver. And don't worry about buying it, I will-"

"Uh uh," he said annoyed. "I have money Hermione, too much in fact. I doubt a tree and a few balls will expend the budget."

"But-"

"Stop arguing with me. Your idea, sure, but my tree and my balls. I pay."

Great now she felt bad. She had money too, albeit not the millions he had and he made it clear he didn't want a tree and now he was paying for it. She sighed, bloody man. "But-"

"There you are arguing again. Go and sit down and let me wash these damned dishes."

"Oh fine be an arse," she threw down the tea towel and stalked down the few steps to the living room.

"Would you like a pony with that, I can buy you one…"

He let out a blast of laughter at her derogative curse and went to tackle the damned sticky dishes.

**………………………………….………………………………….………………………………….………………………………….………………………………….………………………………….**

After dinner they retired to the living room. There was a tension of anticipation between them of the possibilities that might arise that night. But both had been exhausted from the day and were cautious about the intruder.

Oliver had ended up watching _The Vicar of Dibley_ and re-runs of Muggle soccer, surprisingly a sport Hermione enjoyed, but ended up falling asleep anyway. It was one o'clock in the morning when Oliver decided to turn in, but he didn't think he'd end up sleeping; there was too much going on in his mind.

Next week he would have to leave for London in order for some team training for the Cup in a few weeks time. Technically he should've been training himself, but he'd been a tad pre-occupied of late .

Turning to his problem, he smirked. Her legs were raised and an arm covered her closed eyes. He was hesitant to wake her lest she attack him, so carried her over to 'her' room and place her on the bed.

His next thought brought a wicked grin to his face. She would kill him. He walked over to the cupboard and removed the pyjamas she bought. A baggy, daggy flannelette two-piece with cows on it.

Carefully he removed her clothes, wincing when she stirred. He'd rather be killed with her clothes on than off, lest he enjoy the process too much.

She had lovely legs, smooth, shaped and lightly tanned. Her waist fascinated him more so, it was small and delicate before extending to her rounded hips. She had a freckle at the top of her thigh and one above her hip, he didn't know why but he found it fascinating. Before she woke up, he quickly put her clothes on and pulled the covers over her.

"Oliver?" he heard her tired voice call as he approached the door.

Sprung. "Yes love?"

"Did you just undress me?"

His mouth twisted as he opened the door.

She snuggled into the covers, "Remind me to kill you in the morning." And she was out again.

He made his way to his own bedroom, but not before quickly doing a check around the house. Everything seemed alright.

He tried to sleep, but couldn't. In three weeks was Christmas, and he hated Christmas. He'd promised Hermione they'd go out tomorrow if the weather held and get some Christmassy things, but he was hoping for a blizzard. He hadn't had a tree in his house for five years. That's how long it had been.

She shouldn't have been taken away from him. She was too young; too innocent... she'd been his. Getting out of bed he walked dimly to the wardrobe and pulled out a small box on the top shelf. It was the same place he stored her in his London home.

He took out the contents and remembered.

* * *

Well wasn't this interesting. Her eyes did not deceive her: there _was_ something going on between the healer and Keeper. Oh how pathetically sweet. She gave it less that two weeks to dissolve- that would make an interesting bet. She wondered what Maggie would think…

But then again the stupid bitch wasn't happy her plan was backfiring, they weren't supposed to be _together _just you know, 'together' something the media could play on as a rumour, not as a fact. Now they would either bring them closer together, or tear them apart. Maggie was hoping the latter would happen, Rita could make it.

Rita laughed. Merlin it had been a thrill running from the Keeper, of course then she'd gotten tired and turned into a beetle. When the two were busy fighting she'd transformed back and hidden under an invisibility cloak, taking pictures of the two of them.

Sitting at her desk she looked at the moving pictures and smiled. This would be fun.

* * *

**………………………………….………………………………….………………………………….………………………………….………………………………….………………………………….**

* * *

Luck had not been on his side that day. He awoke to the sun shining and the typical cool winter chill in the air. No sign of torrential rain or a severe storm.

"Be careful with that, you'll knock something down," Hermione muttered, carrying several full bags of Christmas decorations, leaving Oliver to tug in the box with the tree.

"Let's get a tree, she says. Just something little, nothing too flash," Oliver cursed hauling in a seven and a half foot box. "A bloody seven-foot tree," he pulled, "_the bigger the better_ she says…" and cursed himself for saying it the day before. "Oh and then, lets have some fun with it shall we…!" he dropped the box and ignoring Hermione who tried hard to contain her laughter, took his wand out of her bag and proceeded to mimic her. "… 'Let's not use magic, it takes away the fun out of a lot of things.'" He glared at her, "I don't think getting a hernia from lugging around a seven foot tree is fun!"

Sobering, just barely, she cried, "Oh I'm sorry sweetheart," squeezing his cheek she began to unpack some of the bags sorting them as tree decorations, ornaments and lights. Maybe they had bought too much, but as he bragged, he could pay for it.

"That it, just sorry?"

But she ignored him. "I think we should put the tree here in the living room against the wall of windows. Don't you think? Good," rubbing her hands together she set to work, first opening the box of the tree. She took out its base and the three adjoining pieces that would make the pole. "Well come on, carrying the box didn't kill you, you can help set up."

He didn't feel like it, in fact he simply sat back and watched her. "We should've gotten the black coloured tree. Green is so…_Slytherin."_

Hermione rolled her eyes skyward, "I agreed with no green decorations, but the tree was too much. Now stop complaining and make yourself useful."

She handed him a couple of branches he had absolutely no idea what to do with. There seemed to be thousands of them stuck in the box.

"Oliver, darling," she sighed condescendingly, "unless you want me to decorate you, I suggest you stick those branches into the little slots on the pole."

"With directions like that, no wonder we've moved forward so well." After a few minutes of her taunting and teaching him, he finally got the hang of it. The branches were colour-coded to match where they stuck in the pole. Weren't instructions clever! And wouldn't wands be much more useful.

When they were done, the started on the lights. Hermione had brought net lights because they were supposedly easier to put on the tree. Easier his barged arse! He almost suffocated his head in between the gaps that connected the lights. Hermione merely said she was surprised his fat head fit through.

"Now what is that?" he asked of the shiny gold and red wreath-like object.

"It's a hair extension," she muttered. "It's tinsel you fool, you can either put it on the tree or around the house."

"Uh uh, no, there's no way I'm having this anywhere in my house. It looks like something a cross-dresser would wear around their neck," he looked at it with detest. "All I need is a bus to stand on and I could be _Priscilla Queen of the Desert."_

"If you don't stop complaining I'm going to tie it around your neck and suffocate you," She handed him some red and gold beads, he was insistent that the theme be Gryffindor colours. "Dangle these from the branches."

Taking them, muttering about Merlin knew what, he attempted to decorate the tree with the beads. He heard Hermione splutter. "What?"

"Dangle, Oliver. Any tighter and the tree, had it been alive, would've suffocated _Greenpeace_ would've been after you." Carefully she removed a glass red bauble from its set of four, decorated prettily with gold glitter and little jewels; and analysed where to put it.

Had it been up to Oliver, he'd have just shoved it on anywhere in order to get it out of the way. There was nothing more tedious than putting up a tree you'd only have to take down a few weeks later. Deciding to try and get in the spirit of things, he opened a bag she hadn't gotten to and withdrew a few dangling ornaments. He had to admit though, she had taste, she also, however had to have her own way. He'd been lucky to get her to agree on no green baubles at all.

"What are these, earings?" Hermione simply ignored him and he placed it anywhere on the tree.

She watched him put a large bauble on the tree and put her hands on her hips, "Now what is wrong with that picture?"

"What?" Oliver thought it looked pretty good.

She tisked. "Putting up a Christmas tree is art Oliver. You might not stick it on the wall but people will look at it," Hermione shook her head. "No, this will not do. When you have multiple colours, you should try not to put them next to each other, especially when you have half the tree left to cover. "

He watched her removed it to the lower branches.

"And when it's a decoration that dangles," she continued, "you put it on the lower branches; if it's up top, it loses its appeal and clutters." She fixed up a few more decorations and stepped back to admire her work.

"What can I say Hermione, you're the _Picasso_- no, the _da Vinci_ of the Christmas tree construction association."

She glared at him and handed him a pretty beaded glass bauble. "Just be quiet and do it right."

After fifteen minutes of dismantling his sore attempts of decorating- which she knew he was ruining on purpose to annoy her- she told him to step away and let her finish the masterpiece.

"Just go and watch the plant grow over there, you have no appreciation of assembling a tree."

He didn't need telling twice.

After ten minutes of painfully watching her put the tree up, he had, what he thought was a brilliantly wicked idea. She had her fun putting up the tree, now he'd have fun taking _it _down…or off. Leaving her to the finishing touches- who shines a bauble? - He sought the bag with his desired contents and left off to his bedroom.

She was finished, and it looked, if she was honest, brilliant. The lights twinkled and the baubles sparkled. She'd distributed the colours evenly and nicely; it was a damn good work of art. Raphael eat your heart out, despite the centuries in between. "Hey Oliver, have you seen the tree skirt?" she was too busy looking for it to notice he had left the room and entered it again a few minutes later. Her direction turned toward the couches when Oliver appeared in view.

"What the hell are you wearing!" Hermione sputtered as Oliver emerged from the bedroom. He was still wearing his leather jacket, a pair of dark calf-high socks- and, boy did he have a nice pair of muscled legs…Good lord. He only thing separating her and him was a thin layer of red velvet and satin with lace trimmings- with a dry-clean only policy.

"I thought it was an early Christmas present?" he said with all innocence.

"It's not a kilt Oliver!"

He spun in an oddly effeminate twirl, of which Hermione would've laughed if he didn't look so dead set on taking it off in front of her. "But the velvet is so nice against the thighs."

"Stay away from me Wood," she held out her hands as he came toward her with that damned smirk. "Tell me you have something under that."

The dimple showed. "Hell I hope so, let me check…"

"No, no," she said in between helpless laughter. "Let's just leave it to my hopefully absent imagination." She started moving away from him. She added quietly, "Nope, still there."

He came closer. "You're looking a little flushed. Is something the matter?"

"Oliver, I need to finish off the tree. Can you please take it off?" she had to make a run for it past him towards her bedroom. It wasn't until after she said it she realised what she had said. "NO! Not here, that's not what I meant!"

"Too late Hermione," keeping his eyes on hers, he pretended to take off the skirt. Little did she know he had boxers underneath, but if she had, it would take all the fun out of it. As predicted in panic she ran toward him, but instead of stopping him she tried to make it toward her bedroom.

He was too quick for her.

"Oliver get off!" Hermione squealed- _she squealed_- as Oliver grabbed her around the waist and lifted her. "You shouldn't be lifting in a skirt."

"Jeez, you weight more than the tree," he joked but didn't let go. "I think it's because you've got too many clothes on…"

She smacked his roaming hand, "Wood-" before she could reprimand him; a rush of wind emerged from the fireplace as well as a thick roll of paper. "What?"

Oliver gently put her down and ignoring the paper, looked up the chimney. He had closed it earlier that morning.

Hermione meanwhile went straight for the paper. She had a feeling she knew what it was. She read it. "Hell."

Oliver looked towards her, "What."

She said nothing, simply gave him the _Prophet _without meeting his eyes. They'd done a number on them, a whole six page spread.

"Bloody hell, of all the times to get a frigging new story, they get a snap when we're in a fight and then snogging on the lawns. _"Wood, hard, durable and eager to Burn_…just what I need, more bloody publicity…" he trailed off muttering curses to himself.

She on the other hand was thinking about the bets in the gossip magazines. No doubt this public display would undoubtedly earn the children's ward a couple of thousand galleons. That made it all worth while didn't it?

No, no it didn't. It might just as well have ruined her reputation as well as her pride. But there was no doubt who was trespassing in the property yesterday; damn journalists; but how could they be so callous, so devious. She had to stop herself. They _were_ journalists after all.

Oliver was still muttering to himself and she'd had enough. "Oh shut up! I'm _so _sorry you had to be caught with _me_ frolicking in the shrubbery; no doubt I'm not up to your supermodel standards!"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Oliver thundered.

She distracted herself by collecting the boxes from the decorations and baubles, "Are you listening to yourself? It's all about me, me, me! Why are they putting these things in the paper about _me_? What have _I_ done to them? You should be used to it all by now, you know what's true and what's not!" she started shoving the rubbish into bags she had conjured. "Me, I'm a respectable healer; what are the associates and parents going to say when they see this! _Me_ having a tumble with _you_!"

One would've had to have given the Keeper praise for reigning in his temper, he was just below madness. He flung his arms out skyward, "praised be the Lord, she finally admits it. Who would care about an intruder-journalist in my home, when it's all about poor doctor Granger getting a bad rap."

"Unlike you, my ego's not big enough to handle this. I didn't sign up for it, I wanted to hide from all this media hype and I was doing a good job of it until you came along!" she stalked up the small landing into the kitchen and yanked a trash bag from a draw. Walking back down she handed it to him, "Here, make yourself useful."

Despite his anger, he opened the bag, held it and let her fill it with discarded tinsel and paper; and at the same time argued with her. Who said men couldn't multi task? Oh wait, he did. "Yes, to you my penis is as big as my ego that's why I get so much use out of it!"

Hermione ignored him, and when she had cleared the room of rubbish, wrenched the bag from his hands and proceeded to tie it. The bag was surprisingly heavy and she struggled to take it outside; wand be damned.

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" Oliver cursed, taking the bag off her and easily lifted the weight to the trash outside.

"Arrogant bastard," she muttered after him. Hermione needed to do something, but the household was now spotless. She had a lot of anger to exert and opening her mouth would get her into more trouble.

Wandering about she came to the den and saw the forgotten puzzle on the table, abandoned the previous day for a snog session. That would keep her occupied for a few minutes. Walking over to the mahogany cabinets, she pulled out its box, and everything else came tumbling out as well in her anger. "For pity's sake!"

Deciding to deal with it later, she pulled apart the puzzle and packed the pieces in the box.

Oliver entered from the cold, though he hadn't felt it as much as he'd expected in the tree-skirt. He was still wearing the damned thing; annoyed at himself, he stormed to his bedroom to put on jeans. Emerging a few moments later, he glared at the angel at the top of the tree. Merlin, he really hated Christmas. "Oh what are you staring at? You should be back in the box where all the other ornaments go."

She heard him cursing and decided this bout of stubbornness wouldn't bode well for their already strained relationship. It was time to act civilised as adult and discuss their issue. She walked out to the living room. "Okay Oliver, we've got to talk."

"When a woman wants to it's fine, but when a man wants to…there's nothing to talk about."

She put her hands on her hips. "Oh rubbish. There's always something to complain about…Look, what happened just before, I didn't…"

"Of course you did, don't worry I understand completely. Just forget about it." he busied himself by shuffling around the magazines on his side table. Where the hell was the porn?

She'd been with him long enough to know he wasn't going to budge, no matter how hard she pushed. He was so damned secretive, he never let her in; he asked for so much, but what did he give in return? Orgasms? Well she hadn't had that yet. "Fine Oliver." She returned to the den to molest the puzzle.

Great she was even madder at him. Just what he needed, to be stuck with shitty woman and couldn't even escape outdoors, lest his balls fall from the cold. This was why he was single and didn't have women around long enough to induce this sort of frustration. It was a build up of sexual need, hidden secrets and tainted pasts that made this cocktail a deadly, yet appealing mixture.

Hell.

"Yes Hermione I'm sure that will fix the problem," Oliver called from the living room.

"Shut up," the bloody door wouldn't close, because she'd thrown everything in it half-hazardly in frustration. Cursing at the door, at Oliver, she grabbed the nearest chair and shoved it against the door.

She turned to the sound of clapping. He'd decided to come and watch her molest his puzzle and cabinets, and even in reluctance looked slightly amused at the sad display.

"Well done. I've always admired your logic. If at first you don't succeed, shove a chair against it."

"What, finished sulking?"

Wow, he had this temper thing down pat. He removed the chair and calmly rearranged the contents within the cupboard. The door shut nicely, but his temper was still on edge.

She suddenly felt sick and claustrophobic. She need needed to get out- to anywhere. Damn it all she was stuck in this cabin-like mini mansion with _him_. She missed her home, her job, her family, hell even Jimmy Junior.

She couldn't sit still, she felt so restless, and so on edge. She fixed up pillows, wiped dust-free tables, cabinets, and restacked magazines. Nothing helped. She needed to get out; or she needed him. She didn't want to need him, but she did; and she'd never needed anybody.

Oliver watched from the top steps leading down to the living room. She looked like she belonged in an asylum, even in insanity she looked appealing to him. He was the one who needed a psychiatrist.

Hermione knew he was watching and she let him. Let him stand there all charming and angry, better over there than close to her, touching her. But he didn't want her, he wanted her body. And she was desperate enough to give it to him.

Hermione couldn't take it any more. Running a trembling hand through her thick curls she let loose, "what do you want from me Oliver?"

She paused, but he didn't respond. He just watched her calmly through dark, knowing eyes and let her finish.

"Oh I think I know what you want from me, but do you need it? Is it something you won't be able to do without?" She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes. It always had the unusual affect of calming her before she made a moron of herself.

"We'll be stuck here for Merlin knows how much longer and this- lord help me- _sexual _tension is driving us- _me_- mad. I'm not vain enough to think it's anything more than a possible tumble in the sheets, I don't think that I would want it to be-"

She saw his brow raise ever so slightly. How could she explain what he was making her feel? She, who shied away from relationships and put everything into her job, was feeling something for a man who probably needed a bag of rice to count the women he charmed. Okay, well, maybe not rice…

"Truth is, I know nothing about you Oliver. I can read the garbage in the paper, but is that the man you are? Are you the chauvinistic playboy drunk who has more than one woman a night? Who could convert a 70-year-old lesbian-" she paused, "-I found that one interesting by the way. Or are you the man they don't show? The one who just the other day helped some children and even myself from the harrows of the storm? Are children your weak point? Not just the other day were you selfless, but you took time out of your own busy schedule to visit a bunch of kids in St. Mungoes. Is that the real you?

"In the two weeks I've been with you, I think I can sense when you're annoyed, angry, amused; but I can't tell if you really are and why- wait, I think that's a lie, its usually my fault- but what's going on in here?" She pointed to herself and he kept his eyes on hers, heat radiating through them.

Slowly she made her way towards him, coming to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, causing her to look up. He was even taller standing on the top level; but that was fine; for now she didn't feeling like besting him. She gripped the edge of his leather jacket.

"The one thing I do know is that it's easier- no, _better_- to hide away from what we're afraid of, because dealing with it hurts. It's not necessarily cowardice, rather than caution." This was the hardest part, but she trusted him enough, wanted to trust him enough with it. "I'm afraid of a lot of things. Children, Ron singing, failure and betrayal. I'm scared to give my trust, myself…my- my, heart to someone who might take advantage of it. What's the saying_? '__Love is giving someone the ability to hurt you... but trusting them not to' _I did that once and I didn't like the feeling.

So I threw it all into a job I love, but exhausts me. I gave my life to a bunch of children who might not live long enough to enjoy their own. It's not about sacrifice, I didn't have anything to give up in the first place; and while I adore the kids, I admit I did it for my own benefit rather than their's," she held his eyes. "Being here with you has been both a blessing and a curse. I know what I'm missing out on, but the cynic in me says that it'll end and I'll hide again. Because it's easier to put it behind you and wonder than it is to take a chance and know.

She brought her hands to his chest, with no sexual intent,. "I know what I want and I know what I need. I'm just better at hiding it, but it's getting to the point that I'm tired of fighting with myself. What are you hiding from Oliver?"

She didn't expect him to answer. She didn't want him to. What she knew about him, his honesty, his integrity, his selflessness- even that damn dimpled smirk, she loved. For today she'd taken a chance and then she'd know. It would just make hiding that much harder.

Releasing her hold on him she turned to the tree. It was large and beautiful, the angel at the top smiling down at her, with enough intensity to make her wonder if the ornament knew more than she did.

Oliver didn't move. He just watched her, the beautiful curve of her studying that damned tree. She missed her life, or rather the safety of it, of that he was sure. But she also wanted to feel again- of what he could give her – if only for a little while- because he couldn't- wouldn't- give her more. That was his policy with every woman, and damned if he himself wasn't getting tired of it.

He moved to stand beside her. Not touching, not looking at each other. Just standing in silence, listening to the soft patter of rain against the window.

"The first mistake you made Hermione is trying to read me. I'm not one of your novels that need to be studied, or enjoyed or criticised; I simply am, and people forget that because I'm a celebrity. And as a celebrity I am supposed to give off an aura of perfection and an image people can aspire to. And when I crumble, I'm criticised and condemned. And why? Because I didn't live up to someone else's expectations, or because it's easier to pin point those people's faults that are richer and more successful than you are, in order to make yourself feel better?

I don't hide as much from my problems as I abuse them- there's no point in running from the inevitable." He played with a branch of the tree. "You wanted to know what the truth was. Fine. All of it. I am a womaniser, and though it's easy to blame my celebrity for the parties and the women, if I didn't want it, I wouldn't have it.

Lose women and one nightstands are not my weakness, I simply don't want to know the women long enough to develop something more with them; less is more and more is always better."

There was a part of her that didn't want to hear the rest of it, she could hear an anger and sadness in his voice. A regret? But she didn't stop him, she simply kept staring ahead, trying to control her trembling body.

"I don't like talking about my feelings much, I deal with it in my own way. But I'll tell you that I'm not ashamed of what I've done or who I've become. When I was younger I slept around a lot, simple, carefree, meaningless sex with women whose names I didn't know. And I think that was the problem, because I wanted it to. Who knows maybe I played the field because I wanted to find someone to feel something with, or maybe I was just a horny bastard. Where's doctors Phil, aye?"

He looked down at her now, but she didn't return the gesture just looked ahead. Was she going to judge and criticise him just like everyone else? Merlin, he didn't want her to. "I never did find it Hermione, even with Maggie there was something missing. Hell, even if I did I doubt I'd know what to do with it, I'd end up abusing it.

I want you and I've made that clear the past few weeks; but I won't lie to you. I don't know what will happed afterwards, but I know your name." He moved his hand over her left breast to cover her heart. "And I know how you respond to me and the way I respond to you. And that tells me all I need to know."

He was either being incredibly honest or using that sweet-arsed charm he was famous for. Damn her insecurities. But still a reluctant smile touched her lips, "What, that I'm a wanton cow?"

He rolled his eyes at her odd humour and moved his hands to cup her face. "No that it'll be alright. Tell me, what do you need?"

She stunned herself by trembling and the want in his eyes and the need in his voice. To want him was bad enough, but to need him? It was tearing her apart. She was prepared to lie, ready to salvage the last piece of her heart that was already moving towards him. But what came out of her mouth was, "you."

Apart of him knew that would be her answer and relished in it, while the other hoped and a tiny part was afraid it wasn't. Holding her face, he brought his mouth down to hers, tasting the faint trace of vanilla gloss- he couldn't get enough of it, of her as she opened her mouth to his.

She sighed over his gentleness. He still wasn't sure she wanted it, his tongue would touch hers then pull away; his teeth would pull at her lips then sooth them. She didn't want gentle. Standing on her toes she wrapped her hands around his neck and pulled him closer, and took over.

He groaned against her demanding mouth, taking without asking, touching without restraint. He let her take control until his control lessened and he pulled back.

He rested his forehead against hers, both breathing heavy. "Hermione, if you're planning on telling me to stop, say it now, because if this goes on I won't be able to."

She closed her eyes, biting her lip. Technically it was a bad idea; a really bad one, but hell, she was sick and tired of living on the sidelines. "I thought I was making myself clear. I see now not," boldly she removed on hand around his neck and moved it down his body until it reached his evident arousal, straining against his jeans. She squeezed. "Now?"

How could she look at him with such innocence and touch him so thoroughly. Gritting his teeth to keep from embarrassing himself, he hauled her into his arms and moved to the bedroom.

"You do realise that after that chat we had I'm going to have to kill you; or at least lock you up as my sex save in order to shut you up?"

Dumping her on the bed, she caught him by surprise and pulled him down with her. "Fine, but kill me after okay?" she went back to kissing him.

"This…this damn it, needs to be off," hauling her flush up against him so she was straddling him be ripped off her jacket, exposing soft creamy flesh and red lace barely covering the full, rounded mounds of her breasts.

"Mm," she sucked his neck, "and so does this." She unzipped his leather jacket. "And this too." She let his open shirt fall off his shoulders. God was he gorgeous, dark, broad, tanned and muscled. An athletes body. She ran her nails lightly over his chest, down to his six pack and to the band of his jeans.

"Uh uh, Hermione, then I'd have more clothes off than you." His roaming hands found the clasp of her bra and in one quick flick; it was on her lap, leaving her exposed to his gaze. Lord she was perfect to him.

His hands touched her everywhere but where she wanted it most and she was getting restless. When his lips found hers and started moving lower, she thought she'd find release.

"What do you want Hermione?" keeping his eyes on hers he brought his head down to nuzzle the ridge between her breasts, one hand behind her supporting her, the other maddeningly tracing the edge of her areola.

He shifted his head just that little bit closer, so his mouth was merely millimetres from her nipple, which was aching with his cool breath and his agonising stare. She shifted just that little bit so his mouth touched it.

He chuckled, his lips dry, he wetted them with his tongue, touching her nipple in the process. She arched against him. "Hmm, what was that?"

Biting her lip, she leaned back against his arm, moving her chest towards his head. She grabbed at his thick hair, as she arched her breast at his mouth. "You know what I want, you bastard."

"Perhaps," he rubbed his closed mouth over her nipple, while his other hand fondled her other breast. She was so damned sensitive, he could just touch her down there and she'd be off. He smirked, maybe he should just try it, though at the rate he was going, he'd get off before she did. "But why don't you show me?"

If she weren't so damned hot, she'd have blushed. Most of the time she'd let her partner take control, but with him, she wanted it more. He wanted her to guide him around her body. Well, she had other plans.

She surprised Oliver when she slid the rest of his shirt off his shoulders and ran a shaky hands down his chest. When her warm hands brushed his nipples, he bit his lips and brought his lips to her neck, sucking at it hard in surprise when she rubbed her chest against his own and thrust her hips against his bulge. "God woman…"

She pushed him down onto his back and straddled him, groaning as she felt his hardness rest right against her. Right there. If she rubbed herself along him just a little more, it'd be all over. Well for her anyway. She ran light kisses along his jaw, biting his earlobe and soothing it with her tongue. "What, you said to show you…"

"Well I meant-" he groaned when she trailed open mouth kisses down his neck before taking his nipple into his mouth. Her moist tongue flicked over the erect nub, swirling it around before moving to repeat it on the other one. Her hands meanwhile where everywhere, using her fingernails to tickle and taunt him. But it was when her mouth started to follow those nimble fingers down his torso that his heartbeat sped.

She looked like a seductress; her lovely body scarcely hidden by red lacy undergarments, her long dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders…and now along his stomach. His breath hitched as she undid the first button, her teeth nipping at the newly exposed over-sensitised flesh and when she undid the zipper, pulling down his jeans, her hot mouth following over his boxer-clad erection, his hips bucked toward her and his hands gripped the bed linens hard.

Hermione smiled against his inner thigh as she felt him jolt toward her. The power she felt over the playboy exhilarated her and spurred on her own arousal. Ripping off the rest of his jeans, she continued her agonising onslaught back up toward his member, sucking, nipping at his sensitised flesh with her mouth, while her hands roamed upward, stopping just at the waistband of his boxers.

He saw her mouth slowly approach his erection, agonisingly waiting for the pleasure she could give him with her mouth, she stopped just short and sat up to straddle his thighs, her teeth between her lips. Her gaze was so intense as she studied his arousal, it was almost his undoing.

His breath quickening, he looked at the damned witch, wanting to sit up and take those two sweet mounds into his mouth. As if she sensed his intentions, she leaned a hand on his chest, stilling him.

He couldn't take it any more and flipped her over, holding both her wrists above her head with his hand. Her body was hot and sensitive below his, her breasts thrust up, seeking his mouth; and he almost lost it as she spread her legs further apart so he could feel her heat radiating from her.

He brought his mouth crashing down on hers, not bothering to be gentle any more. It was past time for tenderness. She opened her mouth instantly to his, their tongues clashing and melding together and when she captured his tongue between her teeth and sucked at it hard, he groaned to stop himself coming right then.

Damn her, he was acting like a horny teenaged asshole and they hadn't even taken off their underwear yet. Speaking of which, still holding onto her wrists, he moved the other downwards, and without warning, moved into her knickers and touched her.

They both groaned at the touch. She was so wet and hot and ready for him, whimpering beneath him and he stroked her folds. Hermione undulated beneath him, with no control over what was happening to her. He was holding both her hands down as well as her waist, prohibiting her to thrust her hips upward to meet his hand and her close release. When he brought two fingers into her and pinched at her swollen nub, she couldn't take it any more. "God, Oliver, please…"

He was straining, rubbing against her thigh. He brought her so close to the edge, so that she was bucking beneath him without the aid of his hand, he let go of her wrist and began to pull down his boxers.

He rested against her entrance, "Hermione look at me."

She'd barely heard him, moving herself to get him in her. Damn him, she hadn't had sex in years, she didn't need the excess foreplay. But she turned to him with hooded eyes.

He saw her eyes close as he entered her and a sigh escaped both their lips. She was tight and wet, and finally his. He started moving within her and she matched him, thrust for thrust, her nails digging into his back, her teeth at his shoulder; their hot, sweaty bodies gliding along each other.

"Harder." He did.

"Faster," he did.

And when she convulsed beneath him, he muffled her cries with his lips and joined her moments later, releasing his seed within her, collapsing above her.

She tried to catch her breath, but it was too fast for her. _Merlin he was good, but then he'd- _she stopped that train of thought. Now wasn't the time. She grabbed his hair and moved his head until his mouth met hers. Lazily their mouths moved together, until he rolled off of her to his back, and brought her to lay on his chest.

"You're something you know that Hermione."

She rose on her elbows to look down at him, "Gee, I'm _sorry_?"

He pinched her side, "you know that's not what I meant."

"Humph!" wrapping the sheet around her body, she made an effort to get up. Oliver made it an effort; he wouldn't let go. He pulled her down on top of him. "Oomph!"

"Where do you think you're going?" he held her waist as she struggled on top of him.

"To sleep in my bed, as opposed to the floor since you take up half the bed when you sleep."

"You can lie down wherever, but you're not getting any sleep tonight," he started to detach the sheet from her tight hands.

"What do you-" her eyes bulged. "Again, we just, how can you-"

"Just stop talking and kiss me already," he brought her head down and entered her.

"Whatever you say boss," she sighed against his mouth.

* * *

**………………………………….………………………………….………………………………….………………………………….………………………………….………………………………….**

* * *

He'd taken her several times that night, just when they'd ended, and he'd start again. The man was a bloody machine, and she was exhausted. Muscles hurt she never even used before. Stretching lazily she looked over a Oliver lying on the bed next to her.

The bloody man took up her half of the bed; all throughout the night she'd had to push him back- unsuccessfully of course- to his own side, usually ending up beneath him and exhausted. She'd learned that if she wanted sleep, the best course of action was to be uncomfortable and just let him hog the bed.

She left him on his stomach, sheet covering his lower torso, to go use the shower. No matter what they'd shared the night before there was no way she was going to walk around the house in daylight naked. Grabbing his discarded shirt, she made her outside without waking the Keeper.

She sighed in pleasure as the hot water hit her ailing body. One night of hot sex made up for four years of celibacy, and she wondered why she'd ever given it up. Something to do with unsatisfying men, no doubt.

Rinsing the shampoo suds from her hair, she couldn't help but think how awkward it might be this morning, or heck, the next few weeks. Was she now his lover? Or had it been a one-night thing? She spluttered, yeah right. But what a night it had been.

"Thinking of me are you?" a husky voice emerged from the shower door.

"Get out! Look- what- go- Wood!" she almost had a heart attack when he entered with her, in all his naked glory. "Oh my lord!" she tried to grab for a towel but he stopped her.

His eyes travelled along the luscious body of hers, wet and silky, Merlin did he love the feel of her in his hands last night. "There's no point of that love, I've seen all of you."

Still she tugged, "But not this early, Joan Rivers looks better than me this early in the morning."

He tugged her toward him, "Really, remember me to look her up…"

Those fingers of his were really distracting. "Oliver I need a shower, especially after last night," she shrivelled her nose and lied, "and so do you."

His brow rose. "Fine, I'll stay on this side, and you stay on that side."

There was no way in hell she believed that for a single second but thought to humour him. "Fine."

Surprisingly it had worked for a little while. The shower had enough room to fit more that three people, but she could still feel him near her, still feel the heat radiating in and out of her body. She adjusted the water.

"Hot much? Any cooler and my balls would've fallen off," Oliver re adjusted it.

"It's too hot in here," she readjusted it.

"Now it's too cold."

They argued over the temperature of the water like children until the cool water hadn't bothered him anymore and he grabbed her, holding her against the wall.

"Jeez, it's cold," Hermione spoke of the tiles.

Getting the soap sponge he ran it down her body, "Don't worry, it's about to get hotter."

**……………………………………………………………………………….………………………………….………………………………….………………………………….………………………………….**

It had taken her half and hour longer to have what would've been a quick shower had Oliver not interrupted and decided to play hide the soap. The man was insatiable. She'd escaped his hold, dried herself with a quick spell and headed for the kitchen. The prat was still in there, taking his sweet arse time while she was making some apple and cinnamon pancakes. Yum.

The doorbell rang.

She looked hesitantly at the door. No doubt the media coverage since that incident would be massive, and if one journalist had discovered his whereabouts outside London, then so would others.

Moving closer she peered out the window. It amazed her how from weeks of terrible weather the past two days had been warm and sunny- well as warm it could be for winter. She wondered how long it would last.

She hadn't seen anyone and started to get panicky, before a small figure emerged from the side. It was Oliver's Aunt Patty. Hermione immediatley opened the door.

"Hello darling! Oh don't you smell nice!" Patricia gave Hermione a bear hug and a kiss on each cheek. "Oliver about?"

"Yes he's having a shower," she closed the door. Shit the pancakes! Making quick excuses she ran back to the kitchen where they were nicely blackening. In the rubbish they went. She poured in another batch.

"So how has the weather been treating you? Surviving?"

"Oh yes, as best," Patty sat at the kitchen counter and began rearranging the fruit bowl. "Oh darling, I just wanted to say how sorry I was about the other day! I mean I am glad the buns are freshly made, I had a sixth sense that they were, but one must always be sure; but you could've put your life in jeopardy! And you have just so much to plan and do for the wedding!"

Hermione winced. She'd forgotten about that. She flipped the pancake. "Patricia, I am just going to be forward with you." She looked up. "Pancake?"

"No thank you dear."

"You've seen the papers no doubt? There's a lot of speculation about the relationship between Oliver and myself," she hesitated. "Now I know yesterday's article will contradict me, but there is nothing going on between us. I don't know how it got so blown out of proportion, but the media likes to twist things in order to create chaos, at least for its subjects." She flipped over another one, wondering where Oliver was. She looked at Patricia, "Oliver has been nothing but kind and generous to me the past few weeks, and without him I don't know what I would've done. But he doesn't deserve what's been said. And I thought you should just know about it."

"Oh you poor dears, though I must say the image looked very convincing!" she wasn't convinced that there was nothing going on. Marjorie had given her the low down…well as she saw it. "Well then I suppose the news I'll bring will brighten up your day!"

"Hello Patty," Oliver had stood in the hallway, drying his wet hair with a towel, listening to Hermione speak with his Aunt. He hadn't known whether to be annoyed or curious by her little spiel, but from last night, they were a little more than 'just friends'.

"Oliver darling!" she walked over to give him a suffocating hug. "Dry your hair, you could get sick! Go on, dry it!"

He detached himself from his aunt's vice-like grip. "I'll live," he walked over to Hermione and gave her a sounding kiss on the lips. "Hello love."

She could've killed him. In fact, if she didn't want to ruin the pancake, the pan would've found its way on her head. "Oliver."

Sitting at the counter, he called to his aunt, "so what brings you here Aunt? Everything okay at home?"

She sat beside her nephew, trying to hide a smile. Hermione looked ready to kill Oliver, heck it almost killed her not to throw down the plate in front of him and serve him his breakfast; though she calmly set Patricia one.

"Just wanted to see how you were since the weather cleared up a bit," she turned to Oliver to see him unabashedly smiling at Hermione who, with pursed lips, was trying not to slaughter a pancake. She decided to try some, adding maple syrup. "These are wonderful Hermione dear!"

"Thank you," she smiled at Patty. But glared at Oliver, dimpled bastard.

A few moments passed with mindless chatter and some careful analysis on Patricia's part. Oh boy, whether they knew it, or were willing to admit it, there was something-special going on between them. Hermione wanted to hide it, and Oliver thought it would be fun to contradict her. But Patricia knew her nephew; he was far too used to getting his way.

If he was serious about Hermione, then he should have to earn her; if he wasn't, then the news she had wouldn't make much of a difference. "Oh yes, have you heard, the Ministry's has opened up the portals to apparate and floo across countries, but it's only for today…" well ad tomorrow, but they didn't need to know that.

Oliver squeezed too much syrup on his delicious pancakes. "What?"

Patricia nodded, waiting to swallow before talking. "Yes it's in the prophet. Since Harry Potter has come back from his holiday, he's allowed the portals opened for a short period of time. He knows that a lot of people have been trapped away from their homes for too long, and has organised maximum security and safety for travelling for the public. The same treatment you got Oliver when you went to the conference."

This was brilliant; she could finally get back home and back to work. It was what she'd been looking forward to, and typical of Harry to organise it. It was good to have ministry connections, she mused. So then why was she feeling terrible?

She snuck a look at Oliver who was watching her intently, eyebrow raised as if challenging her. Well she could either go back home to her normal life or stay here and have an affair. Either way she'd end up losing, but going back home would be the safer choice.

Oliver remained quiet for the duration of his aunt's stay, which was longer than he hoped and he had a feeling his aunt, knew it. When it came to his mother and aunt, they were wickedly manipulative when it came down to a project, and he figured this was one of them.

She stood to leave and hugged Hermione, "that was simply lovely Hermione, I'll need to get the recipe off you."

"Of course Patty, I'll owl it to you when I get back to London."

"I'll walk you out," Oliver muttered and Hermione turned to clean the kitchen, with her wand this time. At the door he said, "what are you and mother planning?"

"Nothing darling," she said with all sincerity, "when it comes to you, Marjorie and I know we have trouble competing. You always get what you want, and most times you don't have to fight for it."

Ah hah! Okay, he understood now. But this fight would turn into a bloody battle zone and he didn't know if he'd come out of it alive. "You and mother are a lot more clever than you think. Be safe getting home." He gave his aunt a kiss on the cheek.

"I will darling, have a wonderful day!"

A part of him knew she wasn't in the kitchen, that she'd finished washing the damned dishes and escaped to her room, or had probably already left.

"So you're going?" he asked casually leaning against her door.

Hermione jumped in surprise, though to be honest she'd been jittery since Patty had spilt the beans. She wondered what Oliver thought. "This may be my only chance before Christmas, I figured I better take the opportunity." She tried to sound cheerful.

Oliver didn't buy it. "I could sneak you in with me next week when I go to London."

She forced herself to laugh, "Oh don't be silly; this way I'm no trouble for anyone. No, no it's better this way." She piled all her clothes on the bed, ready to shrink them.

He moved to stand behind her, "better for whom Hermione?"

She couldn't do this with him behind her, so close, a constant reminder of what they had, if even for a short period of time. "Well both of us, you can have time to train without me before heading to London-"

She turned her to face him, "Don't twist this by brining me into the mix. I never said you were a problem for me, so it's you with the issue."

Of course she wasn't a problem for him, he got what he wanted. "Fine, it is better for me. I can't stay here forever Oliver, I have my own life to get to, I have things to do; I can't simply stay here feeling completely helpless and useless," and _used_, she thought silently, turning to shrink her belongings and tuck them into her pocket.

He tried to reign in his temper. "So it was a complete waste of time here with me?"

Hermione rubbed her eyes. Boy were the two of them good at arguing. "Did I say that Oliver? I told you yesterday, being here with you was good for me, it gave me time to think and relax-"

"You also said you wanted to take a chance. And you did, several times last night."

Her hands clenched at her hips, "Don't use my words against me Wood. Not everything is about sex." She said it as if it were a toxic word.

He didn't think so either, "so what is it about?"

"Oh I don't know," she sighed. "But it was just sex. Incredible, hot, sweaty sex and now it's over. Come now Oliver, nothing's ever more than sex with you." _Unfortunately_.

Just sex, and now it was over? She could use and abuse him as she saw fit. Well blow me! He thought and cynic amusement formed _oh wait, she already had_. "Well what about you, you don't seem like the person to have an affair and leave so easily."

Why wouldn't he stop prodding her, what did he want, her heart on a skewer? She wouldn't give it to him; it was time to move on, to push him away. It was the right thing to do.

"This time I knew what I was up against; I knew not to expect anything more than a short affair." She sunk on the bed, deflated. "And that's what I got and now it's time to move on. We got each other out of our system and now is as better time as any to go before we start getting sick of each other!" she stood up wand at the ready, not really knowing what she was saying, letting her mouth ramble on. "You're a wonderful person Oliver, I've had a great time, really. I owe you so much, next time you're in London I'll make it up to you. You let me know if there's anything I can do for you…"

How could she be _so_ cold? This time he didn't hold back, "Got each other out of our systems!?"

"Yes," she held her ground.

"Oh and you had a _great time_-" he mimicked her.

Patronising bastard. "Well what else do you want from me Oliver? You said so yourself you didn't know, well fine! Stop blowing everything out of proportion. You know what your problem is, it's all about you!"

"Oh here we go this again," he rolled his eyes skyward.

"You're only seeing how this will affect you, not how it will benefit me! Oh if I go, what will poor Olly do for kicks-"

He grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her up eye level with him. "Like you said, it's not all about sex."

"Then what?" she shot back.

"So you're going back, you're running away again aren't you? Are you scared of me Hermione?" he shook her so she'd look at him. "I know you're feeling something, hell so am I, and like you I don't like it. But going back to London isn't going to change it, deny it all you want." He loosened his grip, but still held her in his arms. "Don't dare bull-shit me that it was something we needed to get out of our systems, 'cause damn it, I don't think its going away."

In his anger he covered his mouth with hers, demanding, not asking for entrance or acceptance. He just took and took, with his hands, his mouth, his tongue, pressing her against him in uncontrolled passion and anger. And she returned it with the same force and aggression; but when she felt that tingle in the pit of her stomach, she pushed him away.

"You still want me," it wasn't a question he asked.

"Yes, I do. You're very good. But then, you've had a lot of practise," she was tearing apart, this was not how she was supposed to leave. Angry, flustered and regretful. He should've let her go easily.

Oliver just stood there flabbergasted and incredibly angry. He said nothing as she stormed outside the room, slamming the door.

She wouldn't cry. There was nothing to cry about. He was angry because he didn't get what he wanted, the player had been played…so why did winning feel so shit?

With a pop she was gone.

* * *

Maggie was a little nervous. A little hysterical. She always was around this time of the year. It brought back painful memories of loss and the wonder of what could've been.

She could've been happy, fulfilled and secure- instead of being depressed, unsatisfied and alone. Lord it sucked being alone.

She tossed the prophet into the fire. Well it seemed Oliver wasn't alone. But then he never was; he hid his insecurities by whoring around with easy women.

Maggie had thought Hermione wouldn't have been one of them. But judging what Skeeter had told her, there was something going on. And with a healer! Good for nothing assholes! They hadn't been able to save her, said there was nothing they could do…

But nothing serious should've developed between them! Just something easy to destroy. Now she had to move it up a notch. Maggie took a swig of her Vodka.

Oliver was supposed to be hers! All hers and the one thing that would've tied him to her had gone!

Oliver had ignored her after that. Blamed her for what happened. Maggie had slept around, but it was that that ended their relationship. It was a sore point for him; he never spoke about it. It had even taken him a while to tell his mother, would he trust Hermione with it…

…She wondered if Oliver had told Hermione about their daughter?

* * *

_**SouredSweetie**_


End file.
